The Bait and the Snare
by Adamantwrites
Summary: Adam, home after college, has fallen in love. To what lengths will he go to win permission from an old enemy of Ben's, to marry her?
1. Chapter 1

**All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plots are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Oftentimes I worry that I keep writing the same plot but dress it in different clothes. (Me and Dan Brown! Ha, ha!** **) Nevertheless, I hope this story has a fresh, new wardrobe and that whoever reads it, enjoys it.**

 **The Bait and the Snare**

 ** _Better shun the bait, than struggle in the snare._** **–** **John Dryden**

 **Chapter 1**

"Adam, let me go in with you – please." Her voice had an edge of desperation.

"Ginevra, let me speak to him alone, man to man. I think it's best that I 'beard the lion' by myself." He smiled at her worried expression.

"But, Adam, you don't know my stepfather, you don't know how he can be. Please let me go in with you." She held onto his arm in a futile attempt to hold him back until he agreed.

"Ginevra," Adam said, smiling gently at her, "my golden angel, don't look so worried; you'll end up with a face like a disapproving schoolmarm. And why wouldn't your father say yes? Look at me," he said with a small laugh. "How could he refuse a college-educated man who's set to one day inherit a third of the biggest ranch in Nevada territory as a son-in-law? And someone who loves his daughter so." Adam held Ginevra's chin with one hand, looking at her lovely face. She filled him with such joy, her golden-flecked brown eyes almost matched her deep golden hair and her face was more beautiful than the subject of the Da Vinci painting after whom she was named. Adam kissed the tip of Ginevra's nose and grinned. But it wasn't enough to satisfy Ginevra and she threw her arms about him, burying her face against his chest.

"Oh, Adam, I love you! I'm so afraid he'll deny you." She looked up into his face. "Kiss me for good luck."

"Any excuse to kiss you…" Adam wrapped his arms about the girl he loved and pulled her even closer, kissing her eager mouth. She yielded to him and Adam's heart pounded. Yes, she would yield her body to him when they married. Then, after he released her mouth, Adam kissed her hair, murmured her name, "Ginevra," and swore he loved her more than life itself.

Finally, they parted. "Wait here for me," Adam said. He walked away toward Mr. Sullivan's office, but turned. "One more kiss for even more luck."

Ginevra ran to him and threw her arms about his neck. "Luck, darling, luck!" She kissed him.

"What?" Adam said, tenderly holding her face in his hands. "Are those tears? Why are you crying?"

Ginevra held onto his wrists. "Because I'm so happy! I'm so very happy!"

That seemed to satisfy him and Adam walked to the heavy door and knocked. Ginevra hoped Adam would forgive her for lying to him but it was only a partial lie. When she was with Adam, she was always happy, but she was close to tears now because she feared what her stepfather was going to say and how Adam would react if permission was denied, if her stepfather withheld his blessings. And all she could do was wait helplessly. Just wait.

~ 0 ~

"So, let me see if I understand you," Titus Sullivan said, steepling his fingers, his elbows on his desk, "you want my permission to marry Ginevra. And soon."

"Yes, sir. I do. I love her and I promise she'll be cherished – forever."

Sullivan chuckled. "I can tell you're young. 'Forever.' What do you know about forever?"

"I beg your pardon, sir?" Adam felt confused and he was sweating as if he was testifying in front of a hostile judge.

"How old are you, Adam?"

"Twenty-three, sir."

"Only 23." Sullivan shook his head. "And Ginevra is16."

"She'll be 17 in a few months."

"And still a minor, still needing my permission to marry. Remember that." Sullivan shook one finger at the young Cartwright.

Adam paused, his mind racing; nothing he had memorized, none of the possible arguments and counter-arguments he had contrived remained in his overheated brain. He thought he had been ready to face Titus Sullivan but now he was only aware of the thickness of his own tongue in his dry mouth.

"That's why I asked you. I have a promising future…" Adam said, remembering part of what he had planned to say, wanting to tell Sullivan how, now that he was back home, he was going to be in charge of the finances of the Ponderosa and oversee the mining interests. He was going to be able to support Ginevra and give her whatever she desired – not just what she needed. Who could deny their child such a future with a man who adores her?

Sullivan drew a deep breath. He looking at Adam Cartwright standing across from him. _Those damned, arrogant Cartwrights_ , Sullivan thought. _May they all rot in hell_. And he smiled inward; his face remaining stone. "Promising future or not, I require a bride price."

Adam was confused, his mind racing – a bride price? "A what?"

"I thought you were educated, Adam, and you've never heard of such a thing?" Sullivan allowed a small grin to curl his lips, obviously pleased with himself. He leaned out and lifted the thick wooden top of the green glass humidor on his desk and pulled out a cigar, bit off the tip and spat it into the fireplace. No fire burned as it was a warm June afternoon.

Adam judged the man's actions as vulgar and he didn't like the way the conversation was going. If Sullivan had just said, not yet, as Ginevra was, in his opinion, too young to marry, Adam could have handled that, but the conversation was going into a strange area.

"I've heard of dowries, but I don't want anything; all I want is Ginevra as my wife," Adam said. Sullivan smirked and lit his cigar, seeming at ease while Adam stood sweating before him. Adam angered. The man was making fun of him, talking about _bride price_. "But if by bride price, you mean that you want me to buy Ginevra like the Indians buy their squaws, well, I can go round up some wild mustangs and bring them in. How many do you need in exchange for her? 10? 20?" Adam's sarcasm was evident. "Or would you settle for a few dozen strings of beads?"

Sullivan just chuckled but his gaze was deadly in intent. "You think it's a joke, do you? You want to marry my only surviving child and think I should just hand her over to you and get nothing in return."

"I'd think the fact that I love her and will be able to provide for her would be enough. Besides, she's not your blood."

"That she's not a child from my loins doesn't matter, to the law, that is. If it matters to you, well, that's irrelevant. And you brag that you can provide for her! You're just a coddled upstart." Sullivan leaned forward and with his cigar between his side-teeth, jabbed a finger toward Adam. "Well, let me tell you something, Adam Cartwright, your family's wealth doesn't impress me. I have a nice little spread here and am doing just fine. What I don't have is a son, someone who's loyal to me and my interests, to help around here and there aren't many men available for hire in these parts anymore. Seems everyone thinks they're going to strike gold and couldn't give a goddamn about hiring on at a ranch and those I do hire, well, I'm finding they either can't be trusted or soon move on to someone who pays more."

Adam understood Sullivan was referring to the Ponderosa; his father paid the highest wages. "That's a goddamn shame. Maybe you should scrutinize your prospective employees more carefully." Although his comments were delivered with an air of disdain, Adam felt the hairs stand-up on the back of his neck; he knew where this was going.

"That's just what I'm doing, Adam. If you want my daughter, then before I hand her over to you, you need to earn her."

"Wait a minute…are you saying I need to serve you like Jacob did Laban for Rachel? You want me to work for you for free? You want to enslave me for seven years before you'll give your permission?"

"Why not? Ginevra's worth it—at least I think so. But seven years…how about you work for me…say…seven months, live in the bunkhouse, eat my chuck and work alongside my men and take orders like any other ranch hand? At the end of that time, I'll give you my daughter as your wife. She'll be your wages."

Adam couldn't fathom such a proposition and he laughed at how ridiculous the whole thing sounded. "That's ludicrous! You actually want to sell your daughter!"

"Not so ludicrous, if you think about it. Why shouldn't you earn her? After all, if you really love Ginevra, show me by toiling for her. You work for me, your future father-in-law, work long and hard and do so without pay, for seven months and I'll agree to the marriage. I'll even give her away at the ceremony."

"No," Adam said quietly. "For one thing, I have responsibilities at the Ponderosa. I can't just abandon my duties for seven months. That would make me your impressed servant until…" He quickly calculated. "Until January. Cutting season would be over and my family would have done without my help in moving the herds for winter. Besides, I already have Ginevra's heart and she, mine. You ask too much."

" **I** ask too much? You want to take away my daughter, the only currency I have in securing a man to help around here and you say I ask too much. If I say you can marry her, and you do, what do I get from it? Nothing. I've basically lost another daughter and it's your family's gain. So, unless I have you 'pay' upfront, I've nothing left."

Adam opened his mouth to speak but Sullivan raised his hand, palm out to stifle him. "And don't tell me about 'my' future grandchildren as compensation; they would be Cartwrights, not Sullivans. And Ginevra might very well die as her sister, Teresa did, giving birth to a stillborn. And then I'd have no one. Besides, the thought of you and…" Sullivan shook his head to remove the image of Ginevra and Adam in the throes of passion. "Your family did without you while you were away being schooled. And whether you agree or not to my terms doesn't matter; I have someone else in mind to marry her anyway so the whole argument is moot."

Adam stood still, his chest heaving with fury. Titus Sullivan had cleverly thwarted his marrying Ginevra.

"Who?" Adam croaked. His mouth was dry and his throat barely worked. "Who is it?"

"I don't see that it's any of your business, but ours is now over. I'm sending Ginevra back to my sister in Philadelphia – a maiden lady. Ginevra only came home to help take care of her dying mother, may she rest in peace, and should have returned two years ago. Her aunt Pauline misses her – has no children of her own. But just to be fair to you, Adam, I'll give you a week to consider what I've said. After that, I'm putting Ginevra on the stage back east.

"So, now, since our business is over, I have work to do." Sullivan shifted forward in his chair to examine the papers on his desk. He shuffled through them, ignoring the earnest young man before him.

He was being dismissed like a small child! Adam's rage built. He wanted to slam his fist into Titus Sullivan's face, to grab him by his shirtfront and drag the man over his desk and beat him bloody. Sullivan had successfully humiliated him and denied him his stepdaughter, both at the same time. It couldn't be. Adam had planned everything so carefully, had thought it would be simple. But it had all turned out horribly wrong.

With his chest heaving, Adam waited a few more seconds and then turned and left the room, pulling shut the door behind him. Titus Sullivan looked up from the papers on his desk. He smiled to himself and chuckled. He may not have been able to defeat Ben Cartwright in business but at last he had struck out and gotten to him through his eldest son. And then Titus wondered if Ben knew that Adam wanted to marry Ginevra. And if he did…Sullivan smiled again. It must be stuck in Ben's craw.

~ 0 ~

"Adam, what did he say?" Ginevra hurried after Adam as he strode to the front door.

Adam picked up his hat from the upholstered bench in the foyer. "He said…no."

"No? But why…what reason did he give?" Ginevra wanted to cry but Adam wouldn't think much of her tears; he saw them as "women's weapons," so she swallowed hard. The tears would have to wait.

"I can't…later, Ginevra. I'll talk to you later." He put on his hat and reached for the door latch and Ginevra reached for him. She held onto his outstretched arm.

"Oh, Adam, please. Let's go back in together, you and I. When I tell him how much I love you…."

"Ginevra!" Adam pulled free from her. "Not now! Please! I have to…I told you I'll talk to you later. Tomorrow, on my way from town, a little before noon. I'll stop by. Wait for me in that stand of yew trees. You'll be there, won't you?" The thought occurred to Adam that Titus Sullivan might just ship out Ginevra first thing in the morning, having their Chinese housekeeper pack her bags tonight while she wept and begged not to be sent away.

"Yes, Adam." Ginevra pulled herself up straight, her hands calmly held in front of her. She composed her face; Adam had disdain for histrionics, that she knew. She wanted him to see that she was mature and ready to be a wife; she could bear up under trouble. "I'll be there."

And Adam left the Sullivan house feeling as if the the bottom of his secure world had just dropped out from under him and he was free-falling into an abyss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Ginevra stood looking at the closed door. They had planned it so well, she and Adam. They had been talking about marrying since the second time they had been together, that was how strong their attraction for one another was. In Adam, all Ginevra's various ideas of the perfect man had conflated and she was thrilled every time she saw his face. When she heard his voice; it seemed to thrum through her very being, awakening feelings she didn't recognize from any of her schoolyard infatuations. And due to Adam, Ginevra felt she was finally a woman, experiencing heat that inflamed her. She wanted to marry Adam, needed to marry him to reach the fulfillment she desired.

Ginevra turned to look at the heavy closed door of her father's office at the end of the long hall. She would talk to him. He wouldn't deny her once he understood how much she loved Adam. After all, she had always been his favorite. Her stepfather had spoiled her and her mother often scolded him for indulging her every whim. And he wouldn't deny her Adam either. That is, once he understood how she loved Adam, that it wasn't merely a fleeting passion. Ginevra looked in the mirror over the bench in the foyer. She smoothed her honey-colored hair and adjusted the lace collar on the bodice of her dress. She bit her lips to remove the paleness and headed for her stepfather's office. She even managed a small smile.

"Father," Ginevra said, entering Sullivan's office, "What did you say to Adam about our marrying? I've never seen him so upset. He wouldn't tell me."

Sullivan looked up at his stepdaughter; her beauty never failed to move him. She was far more beautiful than her mother had ever been, even more so than her dead older sister who had been much desired by the eligible bachelors in the area. But her mother had sent her off to Philadelphia as well and she had made a good marriage. And was dead within a year. Sullivan quickly surmised the situation and decided that Ginevra was being devious. That was the difference between her and Teresa – Ginevra had a sharper mind, was more incisive when it came to understanding things. She couldn't be as easily manipulated.

"I told him you're too young to marry…and so is he."

Ginevra placed her palms on the dark mahogany desk that was a barrier between them and leaned in slightly. "Father, Adam is 23 - he was educated back east. The year before his last term, he went to the Mediterranean. He and a friend worked on a clipper ship to get there and traveled about, taking odd jobs to earn money. He talks so poetically about the beauty of the land, the people, the food…he makes it all come alive to me."

"And what has that to do with anything?"

"It just shows that he's not a boy. He's had experiences and is taking over many aspects of the Ponderosa's business interests…and he loves me, Father, and I love him."

"Don't talk to me of love. You have no idea what a man's love is like. Just that simpering, effete boy who holds your hand and is moony-eyed and probably recites bad poetry. That's not love and he's not a man."

Ginevra felt her pulse racing as her anger built. Adam did love her, she knew that. And she did love him – desperately. And he was a man. But she knew she had to remain calm if she wanted things to go well. She gave a shaky sigh.

"Father, I love him. I'll never love another man. Never. And if we have to wait until I'm 18 and can marry without your permission, so be it. But I will marry him."

The sound of a heavy fist slamming down on the desk caused Ginevra to jump. She stepped back. Sullivan shoved his chair back, stood up at his desk, his face distorted in fury. He pointed a finger at his stepdaughter.

"You listen to me, young lady, you will not marry Adam Cartwright. And if you even think of running off with him to marry, I'll set the law after you two and have him thrown in jail and you dragged back here until I can send you off to….to a convent! He doesn't love you, you, foolish, foolish child!"

Now the sobs escaped her throat. She knew her stepfather didn't make idle threats; he always carried through. Always. "He does love me" He does! I know it!" Her tears flowed.

Sullivan stood up straight and laughed. "He doesn't love you. I gave him a chance to marry you and he didn't take it."

Ginevra was stunned. Her tears stopped. "I don't believe you." She wiped her tears from her cheeks.

"Believe me - it's true. I said if he would work for me for seven months without wages, I'd allow the two of you to marry. Only seven months. I figured if he honestly loved you, he'd jump at it. But he didn't. He thought it was ridiculous. Made fun of the idea of 'earning' his bride. So, banish that absurd notion that Adam Cartwright loves you - he doesn't. He just wants to..." Sullivan sat back down, working to control himself, control his anger and the urge to tell Ginevra that she would never marry Adam Cartwright even if it meant he had to kill Adam to prevent it. Not as long as he had a breath in his body, would he allow them to marry. Sullivan noticed Ginevra was shaking, trying to comprehend all he had told her. "Next week, you're going back to your Aunt Pauline's. There are far better matches to be made there; she'll see to it and one day you'll thank me." And Sullivan went back to the papers on his desk, feigning interest in the contract before him but the words seemed to undulate on the paper; his mind was in turmoil. Damn that Adam Cartwright for upsetting his life and his plans!

~ 0 ~

Ben sat back contentedly in his favorite leather chair and it replied with low, welcoming, creaking of the leather; he could relax now. He had already knocked the ashes from his favorite pipe, packed it with a bit of fresh tobacco and held a match to the bowl. Now he drew in the smoke, holding it for a full heartbeat before he exhaled. The soothing warmth washed over him.

The house was warm but as usual, the evening chill would soon set in and then, a small fire could be lit. That is if anyone stayed up that late tonight. Hop Sing had tidied the kitchen and left for his own private quarters in the back. Little Joe was already in bed, or was supposed to be. He had been sent up earlier but rarely went to straight to sleep; he seemed to run on an inexhaustible supply of energy. All school year, Ben often received a summons from Joe's teacher to discuss his afternoon "naps" in class.

Hoss had said goodnight and trudged upstairs, saying that in the morning, he was going out with two ranch hands to check line on the east and to restock the line shacks in that area. Seems some squatters – or rustlers, Adam had added seeing that some of young stock had disappeared, had been staying in them and going through the canned beans and peaches and coffee.

But at the moment, Ben had no troubles to disturb his mind and closed his eyes and puffed gently on his pipe. And then he heard Adam's voice say, "Pa?" Ben opened his eyes and his sense of calm dissolved as soon as he saw Adam's face.

"I thought you'd be in bed asleep; it was a long day. Something wrong?" Ben was sure what his eldest son's answer would be – Ginevra Sullivan. She had long disturbed Adam's characteristic detachment and by doing so, disturbed Ben. Adam was usually a conundrum to him, but desire for a woman, that he did understand. And although he knew Adam was a grown man, whenever he looked at his son, Ben only saw the boy and it seemed his "boy" needed his help.

Adam perched on the edge of the low table before the fireplace. He looked up at the ceiling. The house was under renovation according to Adam's freshly-drawn blueprints and sketches, expanding it upward, and there were fresh beams in the roof to support the second floor. The contrast of the fresh, fragrant pine conflicted with the aged beams that remained.

"Well? What is it, son, that keeps you up?"

Adam shifted to face his father. "Pa, I know you don't like Ginevra Sullivan…"

"No, that's not true. She's a lovely girl. Haven't I always been polite to her when she's here?"

"You're polite to everyone, Pa. But I get the feeling you don't care for her. She's never mentioned it, but I think she feels it too."

"If I've given that impression, I'm sorry – it wasn't intentional. Tell you what - invite her over this Sunday for dinner and I'll do better to make her feel more welcome. Bring her home from church – you can take the buggy."

"Well, that's all fine. But, well…" Adam sighed. "I want to marry her." Adam sat, his mouth pursed.

Ben digested the statement. He wasn't a man to analyze much but this made him pause to decide exactly what the statement meant. His first reaction was to respond by ridiculing the idea but knew it would just cause Adam to close up, to shut down his emotions. And Adam so rarely let him in that Ben didn't want to take a chance.

"I don't blame you and I can understand it. Ginevra is beautiful and sweet and I'm sure that if in a few years…"

"Pa, Ginevra is far more than just 'sweet.' You make her sound like she's a piece of penny candy. I love her. You need to understand that."

"Adam…" Ben noticed the set of his son's shoulders; he was ready to defend the girl he loved. Ben warily chose his next words. "You're only 23. I'm not denigrating your love for Ginevra, but what do you really know about love?"

"I know enough to recognize when it's true. And you were about my age when you married my mother and she was even younger. What did you two know of love?"

Ben forced himself to speak calmly and evenly although had it been a few years earlier, he would have railed at Adam's impudence. "That's true, we were young. But your mother and I had known each other for three years and fallen in love over time – it takes time, Adam. And your mother was, well, she was more mature than girls today are."

Adam chuckled and shook his head. "You mean than Ginevra is. Pa, things aren't that different now and love always stays the same"

"But it was different then!" Ben heard his voice booming but couldn't stop himself. "Why I 'd been out on my own since I was 15. I'd worked my way across the country and been a sailor for a few years already. And your mother wasn't a 16-year-old girl either!"

"All right. I admit Ginevra is young but we love each other and want to marry. As soon as we can."

"Can't you wait…another year at least. If in a year, you two still feel the same way about each other…"

Adam turned his back to his father. "You just don't understand!"

"That's where you're wrong! I do understand. Do you think I've never felt that way about a woman? Do you think you're the first person in the world to want a woman and believe it's love? And that's what I'm afraid it is—just…just…lust."

Adam turned back to see his father who appeared a little embarrassed by what he had revealed, that he too knew the heat of desire that caused a man to behave like a fool.

"I know better than that, Pa. But I also know that I love her. I'm a grown man and Ginevra, although she's young, knows her mind. We want to marry."

"Adam, please - listen to me…"

"Pa, is it because of who her father is? Because remember, he's her stepfather. She's not his blood."

"I have to admit that's part of it. Titus and I, well, we've never got on together, but that's not the major part. I just think you're too young. After all, you've only been home from school for less than a year. I know there aren't that many eligible girls available but you haven't given anyone else a chance. Go to the next social alone and dance with other girls."

Father and son sat in silence. And then Adam spoke once more before he stood and left the room. "I'll think about what you've said, Pa. But I want you to think about what I've said as well."

Adam left the room, going up the new staircase. Ben's chest felt heavy and he sat back. He reached for his pipe that he had left siting in an ashtray but stopped himself. Suddenly it didn't seem desirable. What he wanted was to cry. Was history repeating itself? And he thought back on Ginevra's mother, on her loveliness and grace and kindness. And the taste of her mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Morning, Roy." Adam walked into Roy Coffee's office where the lawman was sitting, drinking coffee and reading correspondence. There was a stack of wanted posters to his right, waiting to receive the lawman's attention. Adam repressed a smile; it always amused him that, no matter what the weather, Roy was always so nattily dressed wearing a clean shirt, a vest and a tie, his moustache neatly trimmed. And he wore his hat even inside his office.

"Well, Adam, good to see you. Sit down, sit down." Roy smiled, motioning to the chair opposite his desk. "Help yourself to coffee – just made it so it's not burned yet."

"A little too hot for coffee right now but I'd like some water." It was a hot June day and there had been no relief from the white heat that baked the land and its inhabitants.

"Help yourself, son." Adam walked over to the white ceramic crock on the side table, and holding one of the empty mugs below the spigot, filled it with cool water. He then went to sit down, pulled off his hat and placed it on the corner of Roy's desk. He leaned back and propped one leg across the knee of the other.

Roy pulled off his spectacles, smiled and sat back. "What brings you to town? Don't need the law at your place, do you? Hop Sing kill someone for insulting his cookin'?"

Adam chuckled and looked down at the thick-walled mug he held. "No, no – just a friendly visit. Had to deposit a bank draft and ordered two new lamps for the house…d'you believe Kendrick is out? Then I had a beer at the Silver Dollar. So, since I was in town, just thought I'd stop by and say hello. That's all."

Roy Coffee had known Adam since the Cartwrights first moved to the area. Roy had been a deputy to the territorial marshal and then, when the small town rose to more than a few stores, one saloon and a whorehouse, a sheriff was needed to cover "the Fourteen-mile City" and Roy was voted in although he knew he was a shoe-in as no one else even considered running; there was far more money to be made mining for gold, that is if it could be found. And if not gold, well, there were some copper deposits around the area as well. The streams and creeks were lined with placer miners and many a fight had broken out over claims and more than a normal share of murders. Roy had been a busy man. Things in the area were finally becoming more civilized and homesteaders were moving in, hoping life would be easier than back east. But that was a possibility only for those who survived the trek.

Roy had always been fond of Adam. The boy had a sharp mind and a sharper wit and the two appreciated each other. Roy would have wanted a son of his to be like Adam but his wife, Mary, died early on and Roy never found another woman who moved him as his Mary had. So he was destined, in his own judgment, to remain childless.

"Now, Adam, I'd say somethings weighing heavy on your mind and since you're not talkin' it out with your pa, I take it you want to bounce something off me. That right?"

Adam grinned. "Yeah, that's right. Must be the lawman in you, Roy. Can't pull anything over on you."

Roy took the teasing in stride. "Well, go ahead and say what's on your mind." Roy waited.

Adam sat upright and placed the mug on the table. "Um…well, I want to marry Ginevra Sullivan."

Roy considered; he wasn't a man to respond without consideration – usually. Granted, he often lost his patience with anyone who didn't see things exactly the way he did, but Roy could tell Adam was upset. But then any man in love, young or old, lived in a state of sexual energy that left nerve endings exposed and raw.

"Well, you have been squiring her places and people have remarked on it. Why I even mentioned it to your pa last week so what you say comes as no surprise. And I can't blame you there. I'm sure your pa can't either, considering that she looks so much like her mother. The prettier of the two girls, but Teresa, she was a beauty too. Sad about her – died so young. I take it that it's not so much her age as it is 'cause she coulda been your sister once."

"My sister? What do you mean?" Adam leaned forward.

"Your pa didn't…." Roy considered whether or not to continue, but Adam was there sitting in front of him, a man grown, and his father should have explained the way things were years ago with the Cartwrights and the Sullivans; nothing was a secret to the people who had witnessed the whole affair. "I know you were young, but you must remember when Ginevra's mother and the two girls visited the Ponderosa? You must've been about 9 or 10, I guess. Teresa was a year or two younger than you and Ginevra…what? She's Hoss' age, I guess."

"Yes, but that has nothing to do with…"

As Roy watched, he saw the change in Adam's face as revelation dawned. Adam now knew, now understood the subtle meaning of the mother and her two small daughters often visiting the Ponderosa, and the times his father left smelling of pomade and witch hazel and wearing his best Sunday clothes.

 _"_ _Where're you going, Pa?" It was Saturday night but Adam had become suspicious when his father took his bath early and shaved._

 _"_ _Just to visit someone."_

 _"_ _Yeah, but who're you visiting?"_

 _"_ _I won't be late, Adam. Hop Sing'll be staying in tonight so he'll watch Hoss. Just make sure you get to bed on time and don't stay up too late reading. And wash your teeth and say your prayers."_

 _"_ _But, Pa, who're you visiting? Why's it a secret?" Adam had a bad feeling. Secrets meant there was something bad or shameful to be hidden. He knew as he had secrets himself._

 _"_ _It's not a secret." Ben sighed; there was no avoiding Adam. "I'm visiting the Widow Ackerman, okay?"_

 _"_ _Why? Why her?" What did his father want with her? Adam had noticed the way his father smiled whenever he saw the widow, even insisted they pick up the small family for church. Adam also knew men and women did shameful things together, the deed of kind, and he knew that grown men like his father missed having a woman around, but that couldn't be it – not_ _ **his**_ _father. After all, his father had loved Inger and although she had died five years ago, well, men, unlike the animals on the ranch, the rooster who constantly climbed on top of the hens and the hog on the sow, well, men could control their behavior. At least Adam hoped so. And just a few weeks earlier, Adam overheard his father ask Roy Coffee, the deputy marshal, if he ever yearned to have a woman to warm his bed at night. Roy asked what made him think that he already didn't have a woman who did so – and then was thankfully gone in the morning? And they had laughed together. Was his father going to spend the whole night with the widow and then come home by early morning? Did things work that way? Did people like his father behave that way?_

 _"_ _Because I like Mrs. Ackerman. Don't you like her?" Adam slowly nodded but remained suspicious; it was an easy answer quickly given. "Now, I won't be late."_

 _Father and son looked at each other a heartbeat longer but neither said another word. And then the father left._

"You saying my father wanted to marry Ginevra's mother once?"

"You must have known that, by the way he behaved, if by nothing else. He was in love with her but she ended up marrying Titus Sullivan instead. Don't really know why she did, but I have my idea. I mean back then Titus Sullivan was the wealthiest man in the area. Remember, your father was basically piss-poor and sacrificed quite a lot to build up the spread, slowly buying more and more acreage. But you boys never did without. And until he could afford help, your pa cleared all that land himself, cuttin' down trees and hauling off stones.

"But never could believe that money was all that caused her to marry Titus. But you never know with women. I mean she was barely scraping by after her husband died, and having two young girls and all to raise. But your father was promising and Titus Sullivan, well, he was wealthy but has the temperament of a rattlesnake. And she had those two beautiful daughters.

"Anyway, maybe that's why your pa isn't too keen on you and Ginevra Sullivan marrying. It might be a constant reminder of her mother - cause him pain. But if I know your father, your being happy means far more to him than his feelings. Just give your pa time, Adam – that is if you're serious about marrying her. She is young, you know."

"She's not that young," Adam said. He rose and picked up his hat. "And I am serious. Thanks, Roy. You gave me something to think on."

"Now, Adam," Roy said, pushing his chair back so he could walk from behind his desk, "I don't know if I should have told you about your father and Ginevra's mother…"

"You didn't," Adam said. "You just reminded me."

Adam left and Roy sat back down. "You talk too damn much," he told himself. "Getting senile early." He picked up a pencil to write but stopped, tapping it on the desk top. "You're gettin' as bad a gossip as those church women, cluckin' like a group of old hens."

~ 0 ~

Adam pulled his horse up and stood in his stirrups to pull out his pocket watch. He pushed the crown button and the case lid sprung open. It was 11:15. Ginevra would be waiting. He was about to flip the lid shut with his thumb when he glanced again at the engraving – _May we love through all time. 1792._ The watch had been his grandfather Cartwright's and the engraving was from his deceased wife given on their wedding day—Adam's grandmother.

Adam gave a sigh that seemed to echo off the surrounding mountains and to hang in the air until it dissipated like fog. Love. Did love really last through time? If Ernestine Cartwright hadn't died a year after her second son was born, having never recovered her fragile health, would she have loved his grandfather through time? According to Adam's father, Joseph Cartwright had been a contrary, stubborn, cold man who rarely showed affection. And yet, Adam had listened to his father tell stories of his own father's moments of kindness and generosity toward his two sons, acts that ensured his children knew they were loved.

Adam closed the watch lid and slid it back into the watchpocket. He was thinking too much, that he knew. He always thought too much and it sometimes kept him from acting. He needed to get to Ginevra – she'd worry should he be late. He kicked his horse and rode until he saw the stand of yew trees. It was on the edge of Ponderosa property, but far closer to the Sullivan house that the Cartwright homestead. And why yew trees with their reddish-purple bark, seemed to spring from there but not elsewhere in the area, was a puzzle. They had grown as if struggling to stay on the earth, the trunks painfully twisted, vying among themselves for sunlight and the rain.

But Ginevra loved the spot. There was an open space in the almost circular grove of trees and Ginevra said that it looked like a fairy circle to her- the trees dancing fairy queens. As a child, after her mother married Titus Sullivan, she would often escape the house and run to this spot to create dances, pretending that she was a fairy, light as air with translucent wings attached to her shoulder blades. Once, she confided to Adam, she had stripped off her clothes and danced naked in the midst of the protective trees, feeling more free than she had ever known. And Adam had listened, mesmerized by her narrative, envisioning her dancing naked and graceful among the trees like one of the Three Graces.

Nevertheless, the Ponderosa built a fence to keep livestock from grazing in that area and being inadvertently poisoned by fallen yew seeds hidden in the grass. Sullivan had done the same, fenced off his side, but a person, by slipping through the narrow, unfenced area between, could enter the spot. It was private and cool.

And Ginevra, his fairy princess, was waiting. At the sound of Adam's horse, she turned and a smile greeted him. Adam dismounted, slipped through the fences, and held out his arms, Ginevra ran the few steps to him and threw herself into his embrace, raising her face to him. Adam kissed her again and again, her mouth, her cheek, her temples. "Oh, Ginevra," he whispered. She pulled away but held tightly onto his arms.

"Adam, I talked to my stepfather and he told me what he said to you – that he wants you to work to earn me. He said you refused and I understand completely – really, I do."

"Ginevra…"

"No, my love, I understand. But he wants to send me back to Philadelphia, to my Aunt Pauline. She's supposed to find me a husband. Oh, Adam! What are we to do? I can't bear to be separated!" Ginevra fell against Adam's chest, making an effort not to cry but she wanted to ceaselessly wail.

"We won't be."

"What?"

"I'm going to take your father up on his proposition. I told my father about it last night."

"Oh, Adam…you shouldn't. There's another way. I've been thinking about it. If I became with child, my stepfather would let us marry then. See, Adam? We could lie together here, in my fairy circle."

Her "fairy circle." Adam realized that although Ginevra was a woman in many ways, she still had the remnants of girlhood hanging from her. "No, Ginevra. As much as I want you, I won't have people say we had to marry, that your father stood through the whole ceremony holding a shotgun to my back. I want all of creation to know I married you because I love you – not just to make a child legitimate."

"But, Adam, we want children anyway, we've talked about it and then, well, we wouldn't have to wait so long to be together. Think about it, Adam." Ginevra grasped his shirtfront and held tightly. "No one would see us here and I love you so very much – I long to show you."

Adam grabbed her hands, pulled them from his shirt and pushed her back. Adam hadn't counted on Ginevra's logical solution. And it was logical – he could see that. Cause and effect. And he loved Ginevra and did want her, yearned for her, burned for her. But what if her father said no to their marrying even as she became full with his child. What if Sullivan sent Ginevra away to her aunt's to give birth and then had the child spirited away? Adam knew he would have no say in what happened because Ginevra was so young.

"No, my love. The first time we're together won't be on the ground under these poisonous yew trees. And it'll be after we're married. It'll all be proper and no shame'll be attached to our love."

"I'm sorry, Adam." Her golden head dropped and she covered her face with her small hands. "But I wouldn't be ashamed – I'd be proud to carry your child."

Adam pulled her into his arms, caressing her hair as he would a child. "Don't worry, Ginevra. We'll be married in seven months. I plan on seeing your father in the morning and signing on. It'll prove to him, to my father, to the whole world, that I love you enough to labor for you."

"Oh, Adam, kiss me, my darling." She turned her flower face up to him as if he was the sun that gave her life, that drew her to turn constantly to follow him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Ginevra knew to get back to the house – lunch would be served soon and her stepfather would ask where she was. He would become suspicious.

"I don't want to leave you, Adam – it's like ripping out my heart and giving it to you for safekeeping until we're together again and it can resume beating. Oh, Adam. I can't bear when we're apart."

"It won't be for long, love." Adam kissed her again and she turned to leave, still holding his hand until the last possible moment, but Adam pulled her back. "Ginevra, remember the times you and your sister came to the Ponderosa with your mother? You were about five or so – the same age as Hoss."

"Yes, I remember. You were always so cold and distant." She smiled. "You looked at us as if we were mere insects not worthy of your attention. Teresa thought you were handsome and I teased her mercilessly about it. But in the end, it was I who finally won your love. I do have your love, don't I, Adam?"

"Of course, you do, you goose. But, tell me, did your mother ever say anything about my father?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did she ever say anything about…did she ask you how you'd feel about him if he became your stepfather? Do you remember anything like that?"

Ginevra's brow furrowed as she gazed absently, thinking. "No, not that I…Adam why are you asking me that? Is there something I should know?"

"Now don't look so troubled. I was just thinking about the times your mother and you and Teresa visited. You know, the irony of life and such."

"I have a few memories of your father visiting us a few times. My mother would send my sister and me to bed – we lived in that little dilapidated yellow house. The roof leaked when it rained and there were ants in the kitchen and the stove sometimes spewed smoke into the room. And then…wait, I remember Teresa telling me she thought they were in love - my mother and your father. She didn't want them to marry because then she couldn't marry you when you grew up because you'd be her brother." Ginevra turned to Adam. "Isn't that odd, Adam? I haven't thought about any of this in years.

"And I think my mother was being courted by my stepfather at the same time. It's all vague, I mean I was more concerned with my doll and our kitten. My stepfather gave us the kitten—Pussy Willow, that's what we called him. He was bitten by a snake and died – his head was all swollen and his tongue was hanging out. Your father dug a grave for him. Teresa made a cross out of small branches and tied them with string. That was so long ago.

And my stepfather, before he married my mother, would take Teresa and me to town and buy us candy and one time he bought us new shoes for school. I remember my mother telling us that he was a nice man. And then, it was one night, I heard my mother and your father arguing. I remember specifically because Teresa and I huddled in our bed and we could hear their angry voices. We started crying because my real father hit my mother when they argued and we were afraid your father would hit her. A week later, she married my stepfather and we were glad, Teresa and I. But our mother should have been happier." Ginevra suddenly came out of her reverie, almost shaking herself to return to the present. "Why are you asking me about all that?"

"I just…you resemble your mother, don't you? I remember her hair was the color of yours, amber, like dark honey."

"Everyone's always said so. Does it matter, Adam? You've always said I was beautiful. Is there something wrong…"

"No. Nothing is wrong and I still think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." Although he was anxious, upset about the revelation, he took a light-hearted tone, tipping up Ginevra's chin. "What a short-sighted youth I was not to have appreciated you back when you had a sunburned nose, skinned knees and were missing your two front teeth." He grinned, covering his apprehension with humor.

"Oh, Adam, you tease me. But kiss me one last time – I have to go."

Adam embraced Ginevra and took her mouth, crushing it with his, and in the back of his mind was the thought that Ginevra's mother had once been held like such by his father, kissed by his father. Did Ginevra's mother stir his father as much as Ginevra stirred him, heat his father's blood as Ginevra did his? And was his desire to marry Ginevra going to be foiled as his father's had been to marry her mother?

~ 0 ~

"Been waitin' for you to get back," Hoss said, putting down the bucket of grease as Adam rode into the yard. "I need your help in greasin' the buckboard and then I gotta check all that tack to make sure it's in good condition afore we start cuttin' them trees. Some of the trappin's got mildew on 'em from when the roof leaked. I'm gonna teach Little Joe how to clean 'em with glasspaper."

"I guess he's old enough to do more than feed chickens but don't let Pa know you're using him to do your work" Adam said. He dismounted and walked his horse into the corral by the barn.

"What's the good of having' a little brother iffen he can't be took advantage of. I 'member a few times you tricked me into doin' your work."

Adam unbuckled the horse's bridle and removed it, leaving the rope halter on. He placed it on a post and latched the gate behind him.

"By the way," Adam said, "I thought you were out restocking line shacks?"

"Well," Hoss said, grinning. "Pa and me, we thought that'd be a good job for you. Seems you been a little…distracted lately and could use a nice ride over the countryside – get you familiar with the property again."

"Conspiring against me, huh?" Hoss just laughed. "And what trees need marking?" Adam asked.

"The trees for cuttin' on the north line. It's that contract from Sacramento? The check you deposited today? 'member who wrote it? Pa done told us 'bout it three days ago. I swear, boy, all you got on your mind is Ginevra Sullivan."

Adam grinned. "And what's wrong with that?"

"Nothin' much 'cept I 'member when we was in school, her and me, and Ginny hung upside down on the hitchin' rail and her skirts fell over her face. How can you be serious 'bout a girl who done showed her underpants to all the boys in the schoolyard?" Hoss grinned and Adam laughed.

"Easy. But it's who she shows her underpants to **now** that counts." Adam winked. "But what I find more interesting," Adam added, "is that you're so in love with hard work that you forgot about lunchtime."

"Dang!" Hoss said. "I knew my stomach was tryin' to get my attention." He put down the grease bucket and wiped his hands on his dungarees. "Let's go eat."

~ 0 ~

Hoss and Little Joe had headed to the barn after lunch, Joe excited with the prospect of finally doing some true ranch work.

"Now, Hoss," Ben said, wagging his finger at his middle son, "I told you to do that."

"Pa, let me do it," Joe pleaded. "Hoss says he'll show me how."

"It's just usin' glasspaper, Pa. He ain't gonna hurt himself."

Ben looked at Joe's large green eyes silently pleading. He wanted desperately to do more than feed chickens and slop hogs. But worst of all was weeding Hop Sing's kitchen garden and having to pull off the plump caterpillars.

"Better take advantage of it now," Adam said to his father, "before he decides he hates work."

Ben sighed. "Okay, you can do it, Joe. But, Hoss, you show him how much pressure to apply. I just want the mold removed, not the leather rubbed through."

Hoss and Joe left, Joe skipping, he was so happy to be useful, and Ben turned to Adam. "Aren't you supposed to be working as well? Or did carrying that envelope into town wear you out? It did weigh a few ounces."

"I know, I know, and I plan to. Hoss told me about the line shacks."

"Well," Ben said with finality, "I can't shirk my duties—no one else to impress into doing my jobs for me." Ben grabbed his hat off the rack by the front door and reached for his gun belt, about to leave, when Adam stopped him.

"Can you spare just a minute, Pa. I need to tell you…it's about the cutting and…"

"What about it?" Ben turned to look at Adam; his son's face held an odd expression and Ben's stomach sank. That expression meant only one thing – Adam was going to tell him something he didn't want to hear.

"Sit down, would you, Pa?"

"Oh, hell. If a man has to sit down to be told news, it can only mean it's bad." Ben replaced his hat on the rack and sat down in his familiar leather chair but was too uneasy to relax. He leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him.

Adam sat on the edge of the settee but didn't look at his father. Instead he looked into the empty fireplace. There was a bed of cold ashes – Joe hadn't shoveled them out yet - and Adam noticed the variations in their color, from silver gray to black. He also noted the river rocks from which the fireplace was constructed and how artistically they had been stacked and invisibly mortared into place. It was so well-made that Adam had left it the heart of the home under the renovations, the large, wide chimney reaching all the way up through the second floor, basically touching every newly built room upstairs.

"Well, I know you counted on my going with Hoss to mark the trees, but…Seamus, he did it while I was gone east and I think he and Hoss can handle it. And maybe they could take Little Joe. He's going on 11 and he'd like camping out and seeing that part of our property." Adam rested his elbows on his knees, his hands held almost in prayer.

"You're probably right. They could handle it and Joseph would enjoy being treated like one of the men. But why can't you do it?"

Adam rushed the words. "I asked Ginevra to marry me." Silence filled the room.

Finally, Ben spoke. "Oh, I see." Ben sat back and then leaned forward again. "And?"

"She said, yes."

Ben visibly sagged. "I see. I see. Well, I suppose you've made up your mind and there's no changing it. I think she's too young and wish you'd wait longer but if you're determined…" Ben stopped speaking about her as Adam turned and put up his hands. "But I don't see what that has to do with…"

"Pa, I know what you think and I remember what you said a few weeks ago, about how I was becoming too serious about a young, naïve girl. All of it." Adam cleared his throat. "But you were wrong then and you're wrong now. Ginevra said, yes, that's true, but when I asked Mr. Sullivan for permission, he said, no."

Ben never thought he would ever thank God for Titus Sullivan but now he did. "Well, he probably thinks she's too young as well. In a year or two, if you ask his blessings again, I'm sure he'll say yes. Wait a little longer than even that and you won't need his permission at all. I'm sure it's all for the best. "Ben relaxed again, ready to take up his pipe for a bit of relaxation before he headed out to work, but Adam still morosely sat. Ben felt his shoulders tense again. "Something else, Adam?"

"He said no because I wouldn't agree to his conditions…but I've reconsidered."

"Wait, what? His conditions? And just what were his conditions?"

Adam braced himself; he knew his father would be initially as appalled as he had been. "He said if I would work for him for seven months, Ginevra could be my wages - I could marry her." He expected his father to explode but he didn't—and to Adam, that was worse. "Pa?"

"That son-of-a-bitch," Ben said under his breath. "That miserable…"

"Pa, you're talking about Ginevra's father. I know that the two of you don't like each other, but…"

Ben stood up; he couldn't sit still anymore. "Don't like each other! You don't know the half of it. He's the most miserable, conniving, sonovabitch I've ever known. And now he's trying to get back at me through you! Can't you see it, Adam? He already beat me once, years ago, and now he's trying to do it again through you."

Adam stood up; he couldn't remain seated now. "Pa, this isn't about you and Sullivan! It's about me and Ginevra. We're in love. We want to marry and although I don't like the idea of having to earn her hand, I can understand it. Titus Sullivan's probably worried that I'm not serious and this is his way of making sure. It's only for seven months."

"His way. Yeah, it's his way, all right. Seven months! Why not have you work for seven years?"

"You're overreacting. It's just until January."

"Just until January. Titus knows this time of year is busy for us. He's been watching our timbering with a great deal of interest. He knows exactly what he's doing. Don't you see it, Adam? He's dangling his daughter in front of you like a carrot in front of an ass."

"Pa, don't talk about Ginevra that way!"

"Adam, I know what you're feeling about the girl. I honestly do – and she's even more beautiful than her mother was. I wouldn't have thought it was possible for anyone to be more…" Ben saw Adam closely watching him. "But you're needed around here. Finally, I have my eldest home again, have you to help around here. We're renovating the house and you're supervising! I can't read those blueprints to explain things. And Hoss and Little Joe missed you as well while you were gone and I can't leave things to Hoss; he's only as old as Ginevra – remember? Your brothers need your guidance as much as they do mine. And now that you're back, if you go off to work for Titus Sullivan…how will we do without you?"

Sullivan's counter-argument came to Adam's mind. "You did without me while I was back east for the last five years."

"And it was a hardship the whole time. You have no idea how much you were missed – and needed. I've always counted on you as a sounding board for decisions and ideas and now that you're home, you want to go work for Titus Sullivan and for what? His permission to marry Ginevra. If you wait long enough, you won't need him for anything!"

Adam didn't respond but Ben recognized the jutting of his jaw; Adam was determined. But his son was logical—most of the time. If Ginevra Sullivan had inflamed his desire though, Adam wouldn't be satisfied until he was fulfilled. – and Ben knew what that could entail if they weren't allowed to marry. Perhaps it was better to have them safely married after all. But to work for Sullivan, of all people!

"Look, Adam…Adam, would you look at me? Please." Ben waited until Adam finally faced him. "If this girl is that important to you, if you love her that much, then I understand. I guess we can do without you for another few months." Ben was glad to see Adam smile—but it was a tenuous smile. "I assume you're going to live in his bunkhouse for the seven months."

"Yes." Adam's shoulders dropped as he sighed in relief. Telling his father hadn't been as bad as he had feared.

"Well, you're 23 and I have to accept that you know what you're doing. But don't trust Titus; he's as crafty as Laban in the Bible. You're good at contracts. Write one and make him sign it. Make him swear he'll let you marry Ginevra after you put in the time."

"Pa, I can't do that," Adam said. "If he's going to be my father-in-law, I can't start out by distrusting him."

"You listen to me, Adam – write the contract. Have him sign it in front of a trustworthy witness. I know that man. We have a longstanding…dislike."

Now Adam did smile and he clapped his hand on his father's shoulder. "I can't say I care much for Mr. Sullivan but I do love his daughter. Have faith in me, Pa. I can handle this. I'll leave after dinner – the sooner, the better. I'm going to pack some things now and then I'll go out and help Hoss grease the buckboard."

Ben offered a meagre smile and watched Adam go up the stairs on the balls of his feet. _Ah, Ben thought, walking on air. All he can think about is Ginevra and making her his._

Ben retreated to his chair and sank heavily into the cushions. He reached for his pipe but dropped his hand. Ben stared at it, no longer having the desire to smoke. Instead, he sat back and rested his head against the cushions, suddenly weary. Once again, Titus Sullivan was going to break his heart by using Adam. He just knew it; people like Titus Sullivan never went away. Until they were dead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: There is a borderline racial slur in this section about a Chinese. Although none were really used in** ** _Bonanza_** **, (the closest being in "The Fear Merchants",) be aware. At this time in history, there were many attitudes about the Chinese that were negative. I tried to modify the insult but the story seemed too sanitized then and not the least realistic. I apologize ahead of time if anyone is offended. If you think you might be, please skip this chapter.**

 **Chapter 5**

"So, you've come to be hired on." Titus Sullivan sat back, appearing smug but he was in turmoil. Titus had been sure Adam Cartwright would never accept his conditions to marry Ginevra and even if he had been so inclined, his father, Ben, would never allow it—would forbid it. But, Titus considered, perhaps Ben had forbidden it but Adam defied him. Titus had to know. "What did your father have to say?"

"Not much."

Titus studied the tall, dark man before him, a guitar slung over one shoulder. Cagey, that's what Adam Cartwright was. But that would make things far more satisfying in the end. So Titus smiled.

"Well, you answer to Hannigan, the foreman. Take your rucksack and tell him you're hired. You can stall your horse in the barn. By the way, Hannigan usually does the hiring and I do the firing. And I always go by his recommendation. So, I suggest you kiss his ass with both lips. Do what he says and do it well 'cause if he's displeased, I am too and you're gone."

Adam nodded. He knew that he would have to address Titus Sullivan as "sir" from now on – at least until he had Ginevra as his wife and in his bed. Adam remembered what his father had said about Titus Sullivan - "Make him swear he'll let you marry Ginevra after you put in the time."

"One thing, sir, before I commit to seven months, I'd like to speak to Ginevra. She is still here, isn't she?"

Titus wryly smiled. Of course, Adam would ask that. Without raising his voice much, Titus called out, "Jinjing."

The door opened and the Chinese housekeeper bowed and then waited, her head slightly dropped. Adam realized the woman had been lurking outside the door, waiting to be called – or eavesdropping. JInjing was slender and pale and in her younger years would have been quite beautiful. It was hard to tell her age as her skin was smooth as parchment but Adam guessed she was about 30 as her small breasts were still firm.

"Bring Miss Ginevra down here." The housekeeper nodded and then backed a few steps before turning and hurrying out awkwardly. Titus noticed Adam's furrowed brow. "Jinjing had her feet bound as a girl, served as a Chinese lord's concubine at a very young age – younger than Ginevra is. She managed somehow to get to America – unbound her feet and worked for the railroad. From what I gathered, she kept the coolies happy at night. I bought her. Anyway, that's why she walks so oddly."

Adam said nothing, just waited. Within less than a minute, he heard Ginevra's quick steps in the other room and then she burst into her father's office, joyous to see Adam there.

"Oh, Adam! I didn't believe it when Jinjing told me my young man was here, but…" She started to throw her arms about Adam but held back; her stepfather would be upset. But Adam held out his hand and she took it, lifted it to her mouth and kissed the back of it.

Titus cleared his throat with displeasure and stood up, pushing his chair back. "I assume," Titus said to Adam, "that you wanted Ginevra here for a reason, that reason being that you want to make sure she hasn't been sent back to Philadelphia yet. So, she's here now. Say what you want to say and then go report to Hannigan."

"I just want things out in the open. You said that if I worked for you for seven months with no pay, at the end of that time, Ginevra and I could be married."

"Yes, I said that."

"Did you mean it?" Ginevra asked. She sidled closer to Adam, holding his hand tighter; her stepfather had a bad temper, that she knew. Often Jinjing was on the receiving end of a vitriolic curse or the back of his hand if she burned the roast or dropped and broke a dish or anything else. Once, while Ginevra sat my her dying mother's bed, she heard a shattering crash and then the sound of her stepfather calling Jinjing a slant-eyed, clumsy bitch! Then, a few minutes later when Jinjing came up carrying a vase of fresh flowers, Ginevra noticed the flushed red mark on her cheek.

"Of course, I meant it, my dear." Titus stood in front of them, noticing how Ginevra looked up at Adam with such adoration. "But does he mean it?"

"Yes," Adam replied. "I'm here and I'll work for you – for permission to marry her." Adam glanced down at Ginevra who looked up at him, her face revealing her love for him. He drew her hand up and tucked it next to his chest.

"Then we're through here. Report to the bunkhouse. I hope you've eaten – supper is over."

"Oh, I can fix you something in the kitchen, if you haven't," Ginevra offered.

Adam started to reply that he'd already eaten but he wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee, when Titus broke in.

"Ginevra, Adam's a ranch hand now and they don't come in the house. Only Hannigan and only to report to me. You best get used to it."

"Now, wait a minute," Adam said.

"You don't 'wait a minute' me, boy! You're a hired hand and my daughter doesn't associate with any of them and least of all, you."

"But, Father, Adam's not…"

"Adam's not the son of a rich man - not now and not for the next seven months, and if I see you talking to him or doing anything untoward, well, I have the right to renege on the agreement. Or do I have to send you back to Philadelphia to ensure it."

Ginevra didn't know how to respond but Adam did for both of them. "Whatever you say…sir." He picked up his rucksack and put on his hat to leave. He headed for the door and then turned and tipped his hat to Ginevra. "Miss." And he left. Ginevra rushed out and saw Adam walk out and she stood, tears welling in her eyes. Things weren't what she had expected. She thought that having Adam work there would only create more opportunities to see him. She would see him in the morning as he readied for work. Perhaps he would have breakfast with them and Ginevra could cook and show him what a good cook she actually was. And then, when he rode in at the end of the day, she would be waiting to welcome him with a kiss. And there would be squiring her to church and socials…but her stepfather had quashed all that.

"Ginevra!"

She turned and went to the doorway of the office. "Yes, sir?"

"Stay away from him." Titus shook his finger at his stepdaughter. "Adam Cartwright is nothing more than an ordinary ranch hand and I won't have you behave like any common chit who flirts with them. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. I understand. Goodnight." Ginevra rushed out, picking up her skirts as she hurried up the stairs. When she reached her room, she pushed the door shut behind her and ran to the window to see the bunkhouse. Adam had just reached its door, opened it, and the light from inside illuminated him for a brief moment. And then the door closed and all Ginevra could do is hope that Adam would be able to bear the next seven months. And hope that she would be able to bear it as well.

Titus Sullivan sat at his desk, his hands in fists, on his thighs. His chest heaved with frustration and unspent anger. He wanted to hit someone – preferably Adam Cartwright. He had to do something. "Jinjing!"

The woman came creeping in the room, her eyes wide with trepidation.

"Lock the door." She did, leaving the key in the keyhole, and then turned back to Titus. "Pour me a brandy and get me a cigar." Jinjing rushed to the liquor cabinet, poured a glass of the rich, golden brandy and placed it in front of Titus. Then she opened the humidor, took out a cigar, and bowing slightly, offered it to him. He bit off the end and as before, spat it into the fireplace. Jinjing struck a match and held it to Titus' cigar while he puffed until the tobacco took. Titus took a long pull of the cigar and sat back; he was feeling more relaxed already. Since his chair was on casters, it was easy to push himself back and with one foot, turn the chair to the side. Then he closed his eyes while Jinjing dropped to her knees and with her slender fingers, deftly worked the trouser buttons. Titus smiled as he puffed on his cigar and sipped on his brandy. Jinjing was useful and she had learned much as a wealthy lord's concubine.

~ 0 ~

Ben looked up from his apple pie at the sound of the door latch being lifted. His breath caught as Joe, who had leaned out from his chair, shouted, "It's Adam! Hey, Adam!"

Adam came around the corner and ruffled Joe's hair. Usually the boy complained and smoothed his hair down, frowning at being treated with such condescension, but this time, he grinned.

"Hey, kiddo!" Adam grinned at his brother with the too long curls and bright, eager eyes.

"Good to see you, son," Ben said, smiling. For the past three weeks, Ben had stared down the long table at the empty place opposite his and it only emphasized Adam's further absence. But it filled his heart to see his eldest boy resume his usual place at the table.

"Ain't they feedin' you good at Sullivan's?" Hoss asked, grinning.

"I just thought I'd visit my family." Adam said, "although if I'd known all the food was gone…" He looked at the few thick slices of sourdough bread left on a plate.

Hop Sing came out of the kitchen at the sound of Adam's voice. His sleeves were rolled up and his hands had suds on them as he had been washing dishes.

"Mistah Adam home to eat?" Hop Sing asked hopefully, grinning widely.

"Mister Adam sure is. And Hop Sing, I think I've missed your cooking more than I missed Hoss and Joe – no, let me set that straight; I **have** missed your cooking more than I have Hoss and Joe."

"Well, we ain't missed you, have we Joe?" Hoss asked. Joe just laughed. "Since you been gone, me and Joe's been splittin' your desserts."

"And who's been doing all my work?"

"Okay," Hoss said, "got to admit that we missed you for that."

"Hop Sing fix plate for Mistah Adam. Roast beef – rare – fried potatoes, green beans and hog jowl. All good! And, you see what they eat, apple pie with cream." Hop Sing waited.

"I'm ready." Adam said. "And Hop Sing, how about a slice of Cheddar on my pie?"

"Yes, sir, Mistah Adam! Nice, thick slice!" Hop Sing rushed back to his kitchen, happy to prepare more food.

"How you can ruin a dang good piece of apple pie with cheese, I just don't know," Hoss said as with the side of his fork, he cut another chunk off his pie.

"You should try it," Adam said as he rose and poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the sideboard. "Expand your horizons. Besides, I didn't think there was anything you wouldn't eat."

"It ain't the taste," Hoss said, chewing, "it's the smell. Smells like Joe's old, dirty socks after they been under his bed for a month."

Adam and Joe laughed but Ben only said, "Don't talk with your mouth full."

Hoss swallowed, said, "Yes, sir," and then Hop Sing came out of the kitchen with a plate filled to brimming, and placed it before Adam. Now the whole family was back together and a type of peace fell over the house; all was as it should be.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"So how did the men take to you?"

Adam grinned but there was no amusement or pleasure in it. Hoss and Joe had left, finished with their meal, and Ben had moved to sit closer to Adam who was toying with his dessert.

"Well, there's only Hannigan, he's the foreman, me, and two other hands – Tarbuck and Lew. And they weren't particularly welcoming. So, as the new man, I have to do all the shit work, and that's meant literally. The Silver T has no barn boy so instead of everyone taking care of their own mount, my job so far has been to muck out all the stalls, curry and check the horses, feed and water them and clean all the tack."

"Trying to make it hard on you, aren't they?"

"Yeah. I'm sure Hannigan, with Sullivan's blessings, is going to make the next seven months the most miserable of my life. I know Sullivan wants me to quit or give him a reason to fire me but I'm determined to hold out."

Ben sighed deeply. His boy was stubborn. "You sure this is a good idea, Adam? If you wait only two more years…it's not really that long." Ben knew that two years would fly by but to Adam, it would seem interminable. Adam had told him that Titus wanted to send Ginevra away back to her aunt; Ben hoped he would and not just for Adam's sake. Having Ginevra thousands of miles away might bring Adam back to his senses and allow him to see that there were other attractive women in the environs, lovely women who were hard-working and loving and were of age to bear children.

"No, I'm not sure it was a good idea but I have something now to prove to Sullivan."

"You don't have anything to prove to that man. I'm telling you, Adam, he's as crooked as a dog's hind leg. Did you make him sign something?"

"No, I didn't but I made him repeat the promise in front of Ginevra. She knows and if he doesn't carry through, well…"

"Well, what? What do you expect her to do? Cry? Pitch a hysterical fit? She's a minor, she has no say. He can deny you and she can do nothing but be disappointed and cry. And you still won't be able to marry her. Adam…"

"Pa, we've already gone over this. I don't want to…." Adam pushed his pie away, half-eaten.

"All right. I'm sorry. Tell me about your responsibilities other than barn duties."

"Well, tomorrow, I'm to head out to what used to be part of The Rolling R."

"Oh? What happened?"

"You need to get to town more, Pa. You're behind on gossip." Adam grinned. "I get all the news from Hannigan who spends more time than I'd expect in town.

"Seems Rackard lost the ranch, lock, stock and barrel, to a gambler. It was a marathon poker game in the Silver Dollar—about 10 hours from what I heard. Anyway, this gambler's young, about my age, I hear, maybe a few years older, dressed in a fancy three-piece suit with gold cufflinks. Says he really has no intention to take up ranching, at least not yet, so he sold off those few acres next to The Silver T. My orders are to mark it off and note what needs to be cleared. Then, over the rest of the week, put up a fence. Might be good grazing ground. Too bad it's not close to the Ponderosa – you could have bought it. Would be a good purchase."

"Hmmm. Rackard's ranch had a lot of promise, that is if he would've ever put down the bottle long enough to work it. That reminds me – seems that few more young head are missing. Seamus also reported some of the fencing is down so it's possible they've wandered off or maybe a bear or such brought them down. You know a bear can carry off a small steer and hide it away to be finished later. That may be why we haven't found any carcasses."

"Out with it, Pa. You think Tutus Sullivan's rustling some of our stock and that's why he wants that land away from the Ponderosa."

"It's just a suspicion—actually, it's more like a hope. I'd love to pin something on him. But I tend to be suspicious of everything and anything if Titus Sullivan's even within spitting range."

Adam grinned. "Can't say I blame you. He's a sly one."

"Adam…" Ben cleared his throat. "Don't take this the wrong way, but with having Ginevra so close, do you…? I mean the two of you don't…"

"I haven't spoken to her since the night I signed on."

"I just wondered. So, tell me what you do besides shoveling shit all day." Ben grinned, waiting.

Adam paused; he wasn't sure what to say. There were so many things he couldn't tell his father, things he couldn't share with anyone. And he wanted to free his father's mind of any worry, so he just told his father that he woke up, ate breakfast and then did whatever he was told. And that basically, the other men ignored him but that he was asked if he wanted to play the winner of a checker game. But while his father talked about the Ponderosa and the business that had transpired while Adam had been gone, Adam's mind churned over his past three weeks on the Silver T.

Every morning, before the sun was completely up, Adam would glance to the house and in the upper window, he would see Ginevra. She would lean out, her golden hair hanging in one long braid and Adam would think back on the fairy tale about Rapunzel. She would call out to him if no one was in the yard, "Good morning, my darling." And he would reply.

And each evening after all his work was done and he could smell the ham and beans, the most common meal that Tarbuck cooked for them, Adam would look up and Ginevra would be standing at her window again. That made the day's work and being ordered about as if he was a mere kid, bearable.

And then he would go in and take what was left for his own meal. He would eat in silence while Hannigan and the other two talked about the ranch, money, and women. And while Adam washed and dried the pots and pans and dishes, one of them would either take out the checker board or a deck of dirty cards along with a bottle of cheap whiskey provided by Titus, and they would pass the time drinking, playing and gossiping.

One night, Adam had sat on his bunk and picked out a song on his guitar while Hannigan and Tarbuck played checkers and Lew watched.

"Hey," Tarbuck shouted to Adam, "play somethin'. That pickin' of yours is settin' my nerves on edge."

"Yeah," Lew said. "You know anything other than church songs. I don't like them church songs."

"Why?" Tarbuck asked. "They remind you you're goin' to hell for drinkin' and whorin' when you're in town?"

"Well, you'll be there afore me, I'm sure so at least there'll be somebody I know standin' by Old Scratch with open arms."

Adam smiled at their mutual insults and he started to play a tune he had picked up when he first learned to strum. He didn't know the name but it was lively and familiar to his fingers.

"That's more like it," Tarbuck said, tapping his foot.

"You know what would be nice?" Hannigan said as he moved one of his pieces.

"What?" Lew asked. He slapped a hand on his thigh as he realized the foreman had surrounded Tarbuck's only king on the board.

"If we didn't have to go to town to find a woman. Seems a shame what with a pretty thing like Ginevra that we have to pay a stranger for a little comfort. I tell you, I'd like to have that sweet little thing under me. I swear she hiked her skirt a little yesterday, showed me a bit of a curvy leg and winked at me. Then shook those hips as she walked away."

Tarbuck and Lew went silent. They sat unmoving. Adam stopped his playing. He knew what was happening just as the other two men did. He was being baited. They all knew, Adam was certain, just why he was working as a common ranch hand, why the scion of the Ponderosa was mucking out stalls, carting and dumping manure and working harder than any of them.

"C'mon, Hannigan," Tarbuck said. "Ain't no need to go and talk about Miss Ginevra like that. I mean her momma's been dead less'n a year and she's only a girl…"

"Ain't you heard?" Hannigan said. "Apparently she's old enough to marry? Or at least she and Cartwright there think so. Old enough to marry, old enough to have her shirts tossed. Ain't that right, Cartwright?" Hannigan grinned.

But Adam knew that if he responded, if he said what he wanted to say, if he did what he itched to do, to defend Ginevra from Hannigan's slimy insults, he would be fired. Adam put down his guitar and jumped down from his bunk and clenching his jaw to keep his emotions intact, he walked out of the bunkhouse and into the night air. He shook with fury and looking up, he saw the light on in Ginevra's room. What was she doing? Was she pining for him, longing for him the way he was her? And he wondered if he had struck a bad bargain, struck a deal with the devil.

~ 0 ~

That night after Adam had been gone for a few hours, Ben was still unable to sleep. He stared into the darkness as he lay in bed. He rolled onto his side. Adam was under Sullivan's roof, more or less, and Ben feared for his son. And it was all because of him, all because he had shown Titus Sullivan, that despite losing Livy Ackerman to him, Ben ended up on top. He had the biggest spread, three times larger than the Silver T. and he had three sons that were his blood.

Now, years afterwards, Ben realized that not marrying Livy had allowed him to be open to love when he met Marie De Marigny, Joe's mother. So, perhaps all things happened for the best, after all, Ben thought. And Adam was a grown man and could fend for himself. After all, he himself had been on his own almost all his life, had sailed the sea and almost drowned once having been swept overboard. But he had survived and Adam would as well. He was, after all, a Cartwright.

Ben rolled onto his back again and looked at the ceiling. Livy. Beautiful Livy. He had loved her and she had loved him. But damn that Titus! His money, his promises of a stable future for her daughters, that had won her over. And Ben could understand. He had two sons and more than anything, he wanted their future to be secure, for them to have the Ponderosa when he passed. But what had he to offer a wife back then? Only a small house that was low and long, and where the winter winds sang though the crumbling mortar, a small spread with some rangy steer and skinny chickens and a few hogs kept far enough away not to stink up the house but close enough to hear squealing should a bear or wolf try to make meal of their pink flesh.

And two sons who needed a mother. Four children. Livy didn't know how to relate to Adam and Hoss. Hoss was open and friendly and Livy had a soft spot for him, but he was rough and raucous with his big laugh even back then. But Adam with his dark moods and aloofness was the bigger problem. And then when Ginevra said that Teresa wanted to marry Adam, well, Livy said they couldn't live together in the same house. She couldn't allow her eldest daughter to live in the same house with a boy about whom she felt "warmly". Besides, she had added, Adam and Teresa were too old now to be raised as sister and brother. Ben understood Livy's implication.

Ben had argued, told her she was wrong and what was she thinking to even suggest that Adam would do something, anything so "unnatural." But it wouldn't be unnatural, she had retorted. Didn't Ben see his son wasn't going to be a child much longer? How could he expect Adam not to be affected as Teresa grew into a woman?

Ben had been appalled. He could understand Titus' money, he could understand that Livy didn't feel capable to handle two big boys along with her girls, but to even suggest that Adam and Teresa might possibly… He had left her small house that night and never spoke to Livy Ackerman again except politely when their paths would cross. But as she would walk away, Ben still felt a pull at his heart, even when Marie was on his arm. Except for the time four years ago when Livy Sullivan came riding up to the Ponderosa late at night, desperate to talk to him. Ben pressed his hands into his temple as he remembered, as if by applying enough pressure, he could squeeze out the memory.

"Livy, what is it?" Ben had drawn her into the house and then lit another lamp.

"Oh, Ben, I have no right to ask you for your help but…oh, Ben." She burst into tears, collapsing into his arms.

Ben walked her over to the settee and sat her down. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

"Livy, Livy…" Ben wrapped a comforting arm about her but she continued to weep. Ben rose and went to the liquor cabinet, chose a good Kentucky mash whiskey and poured a shot. He brought it back to the settee, and slipping one arm around her shaking shoulders, spoke in soothing tones. "Here, drink this. Please."

Livy held onto Ben's strong hand with both of hers and he guided the glass to her mouth. She took a swallow and cringed at the taste. It took away her breath but it stopped her tears.

"Now, suppose you tell me what it is?"

"It's Teresa."

"What about Teresa?" Ben waited and Livy raised her golden eyes to look at him. Tears still threatened. Livy was as beautiful as the first day he had seen her, golden and pure with hair the color of honey. And Teresa had grown up as beautiful but it was Ginevra whose beauty exceeded both of theirs.

"I know Adam is back east but…would he marry Teresa?"

"What…? Marry Teresa? Livy, what's going on?"

"She's with child."

"Oh. I see." Ben sighed. "Who's the father?"

"She won't say." Livy started to cry again. "Oh, Ben! I have to help Teresa. And Adam, I was thinking he's…he's grown into such a fine man – intelligent and handsome. So reliable! If he would marry Teresa, then I know that she'd be all right and she'd be a good wife. Oh, please, Ben! Call Adam home! He was friendly with Teresa before he left. Remember? He squired her to the fall dance and even sat with her at church a few times. She was so fond of him – always has been. I know he would be a good husband for her and her being with child – he could forgive it."

"Livy! Do you know what you're asking? Think on it? You can't decide the future for Teresa and I can't do it for Adam."

"I'm, asking for your help!" Livy grabbed at Ben desperately. She looked fevered and almost deranged.

"Livy! Livy, calm down, calm down." She sagged as if defeated.

"I knew it was crazy but I'm so desperate. I have my suspicions as to the father but… I should have sent her away to her Aunt Pauline's to go to school as I did Ginevra. I should have sent her away but I thought since she wasn't as pretty as Ginevra..." She sat up straight again. "I just thought maybe you'd agree to at least ask Adam. I just…you need to know why I…I'm dying, Ben."

Ben felt as if he'd been struck in the face. "Dying? What…Livy, are you sure?"

"Dr. Martin is sure. He's run tests on me, taken my blood and such. Sent samples and found the same results over and over. My symptoms are for what he calls Bright's disease. He's been treating me for a little over two years but my kidneys and my heart – well, I'm going blind and soon…he gives me less than a year."

"Oh, Livy. I'm so sorry."

She offered a weak smile. "It's the way of the world, Ben. I should have made different decisions long ago, I should have…but I have to help Teresa. And I need your help now more than I ever have."

"All right, Livy, I'll help you, but I'm not asking Adam to return home. I do have a friend in Stockton. He and his wife are good people and she'll find a place where Teresa can have her baby. Then afterwards, Teresa can come back here and you and she can tell whatever story you choose to explain the child. No one will ever hear different from me."

"No, no, Ben!" Livy grabbed him again. "She can't come back to the house!" Not ever! Promise me that!"

"All right, Livy, all right. I'll wire my friends first thing tomorrow and ask if I can send Teresa until other arrangements can be made. I know they'll say yes; they have more than enough room and they're kind."

"Thank you, Ben. Thank you." She reached out and gripped his hands, looking at them. "So strong. So caring." She turned her eyes up to his face. "Oh, Ben. I should have married you. I threw away a chance to be happy for security." She laughed but it had an odd, hollow sound - bereft of any amusement. "I was worried that you'd be scratching out a living alone on this tract but it hasn't been that way at all. You had a wife again, a wife better than me and I threw away my last chance to be happy."

"Livy…"

"No, God has punished me for my avarice and I'm going to die without seeing my children again. I know it, Ben. But why Teresa? She shouldn't have been punished for my mistake. Life is so cruel…"

"Life is precious," Ben said, "and if what Dr. Martin said is true, then I want you to enjoy every moment you have left. Tell me what I can do."

Livy studied Ben's face. "Kill Titus Sullivan. Take a shotgun and blow off his head."

Ben sat up in bed. He wanted Adam home and even if it meant that his son would marry Ginevra as soon as possible, so be it. Ben knew he needed to get both his son and Livy's child from the house. Just how though, he didn't know, but it had to be done.


	7. Chapter 7

**A much shorter chapter; I wanted to give a break to you who are reading. And I'm hoping you are enjoying...okay, not enjoying but at least find this story interesting enough to follow to the end.**

 **Chapter 7**

Adam gathered the stakes and the ball of twine to mark the new property line. The compass was in his pocket and the tripod and its necessary accoutrements were tied onto his saddle. Adam told Sullivan that he should hire a professional surveyor, that he knew the basics but didn't think it would be legally binding.

Sullivan snorted. "That gambler, Dayton, he doesn't really care – all he wanted was the money, said he had no use for land; agreed to my terms and signed the hand-written bill of sale before he left town. So, if you want to edge a bit out, enlarge my section by a few feet, I don't think he'll give a goddamn. Besides he's given me the option to buy more land should I want at any time in the next five years. Now you just pack up all you need and do your job."

"Yes, sir," Adam said curtly. "I will do my job to the _exactness_ required."

"Just like you Cartwrights – disgustingly honest. A man won't end up on top like that. Strike while you have the advantage, that's my belief."

"We've done just fine being 'disgustingly' honest, just in case you haven't noticed."

"That a fact?" Sullivan smiled. Adam got under his skin but he'd rot in hell before he'd let that Cartwright know. "Heard you went to visit your family yesterday."

"Yes, sir. Had Sunday dinner with them. It was on my own time. Hannigan told me Sunday was mine to do as I wanted, but if you think you own my Sundays, dock my pay." Adam went back to adjusting the saddle, his horse snuffling for stray pieces of hay on the barn floor.

"Better watch that smart mouth of yours, boy." Hannigan said. "And you best put in a full day's work. I expect to see quite a bit of progress on marking that property by tomorrow. And don't think I won't be checking-up on your progress in the morning."

Sullivan walked back to his house and Adam watched him, his jaw working. There was something distasteful about Sullivan, something he didn't trust. Titus Sullivan was tall but had developed a slight paunch, his stomach hanging over his trousers. Adam considered that if Sullivan did more hard work, he wouldn't be turning soft.

A sense of relief flowed over Adam at the thought of getting off the property. It would be nice to ride out and work by himself for a change instead of having Sullivan check on him four or five times a day, standing off a distance and waiting until Adam noticed him. That way, Adam would be unsure just how long Sullivan had been there. Adam was sure it was to make him believe that Sullivan was ubiquitous and that no matter what he was doing, Adam had to look over his shoulder; it was Sullivan's way to rattle him. And as soon as one chore was finished, Sullivan gave him another one. Sullivan had even mentioned in passing that the roof of the house needed fresh shingles and it wanted painting. Adam ignored the comment but knew those jobs would soon be coming his way.

He threw his saddle bags over his horse. Adam paused - one saddle bag was unbuckled. Adam reached inside, felt a piece of paper and pulled it out. He unfolded it and read.

 _"_ _Adam, meet me at the yew trees at 10:00. Please. I need to see you. All my love,_

 _Devotedly yours, Ginevra."_

Adam read it one more time and then folded it and put it in his shirt pocket. Then he packed his saddlebags with the twine and stakes and left for the old Rackard Ranch.

~ 0 ~

Adam had left his equipment and ridden to the yew trees; he hadn't wanted to leave his work. Knowing Sullivan, he might send someone, or just ride out himself to see if Adam was diligent. If he was gone, well, that might cause his firing and his loss of Ginevra.

But she was there and Adam dismounted even before his horse stopped. Ginevra ran to him and he hesitated to embrace her; he had been working in the hot June sunshine and his hair and shirt were damp with sweat. But Ginevra wrapped her arms about him, not caring. He returned her embrace and they kissed. But instead of feeling relief, Adam just became more agitated, more desirous of her.

"Ginny, why the note?"

"You haven't called me 'Ginny' since I was a girl."

Adam chuckled. "You still look like a girl with those freckles across your nose." He smiled but she did look like a girl. Suddenly he saw her as she was - young. For the first time in a long time, Adam looked at Ginevra with a stranger's eyes. Seven years wasn't that great a span between a man and a woman, a husband and wife, but Adam knew that Ginevra had yet much to learn. And her age suddenly hit him. Hoss and she were the same age and yet Hoss wasn't ready to go off alone and check line or stock line shacks by himself. Yet Adam had believed that Ginevra was ready to be a wife, ready to fulfill his hungers and needs and perhaps have his child. But she was still a girl and there was no getting around it.

"Adam don't be silly. Kiss me again. I've missed you so."

He kissed her. She still roused him, still made him gasp with her intense beauty but she was too young; he knew it now and it almost brought a sob to his throat. Had his instant attraction for her been mistaken for love?

Adam had known some girls his own age and even older back east. He had even spent one night in the canopied bed of a professor's wife and had learned quite a bit from her; she told him she liked beautiful young men. But he had never mistaken any of those attractions for love.

Ginevra reached up to touch Adam's cheek. "Is something wrong?"

"That's what I was going to ask you. Why did you need to see me this morning? I have work to do and if I don't get it finished, well, it won't be good."

"It's just that I miss you so. I was thinking that tonight I would slip out of the house and we could meet. Having you so close and not being with you is hard."

"Ginevra, that's not a good idea. I think we need to stay away from each other for a while. For both our sakes."

Ginevra stepped back. "Why are you saying that, Adam. Is there someone else?"

"Ginny, I haven't been off this damn ranch in over two weeks except yesterday for Sunday dinner with my family. Who else would there be? Your housekeeper?"

"Then why don't you want to see me? Don't you love me anymore? Did your father convince you I wasn't worthy of being a Cartwright as my mother wasn't?"

"What are you talking about? No, nothing like that. I just came to the conclusion that maybe you are too young to be a wife. If we wait until you're 18…"

"That's over a year. You'll meet someone else in that time, I know it." Her eyes filled with tears and Adam couldn't resist anymore. He pulled her into his arms. Ginevra held him as well, pressing her cheek against the damp fabric that smelled like him, gave off his essence of moist warmth and a sweet, mossy smell of all outdoors.

"Listen to me, sweetheart, and take what I say seriously." He held her at a distance. "You're only 16. Taking care of a house and me and handling all the duties, why, it would be overwhelming. And what if you…became with child. You're too young and I can't, in all good conscience and with loving you the way I do, put you in such situations."

"Teresa married at my age!"

"And she died along with her child."

Ginevra walked away a few steps and Adam watched her small back; for some reason it moved him. "I'm not my sister."

Suddenly a new thought came to him. "Who did she marry?"

Ginevra turned. "What?"

"I asked who she married. I've heard a bit about Teresa but not who she married. Who was it?"

"Well…I don't really know. I was at my Aunt Pauline's when I was told. My aunt told me that Teresa had met someone and that he lived in California. She went there to live with him and then she died giving birth. The baby was stillborn.

"I remember I asked questions but my aunt, she didn't…there was a secret but I didn't ever know what it was."

"You never asked your mother?"

"No. When I came home about two years ago, my mother was barely able to talk, was barely conscious while I was there. The doctor would stop by to give her morphine shots for her pain and he told me to give her laudanum if she awoke and was in pain. She would mumble about things, things I couldn't follow and she called me Teresa. I don't think she knew it was even me."

Adam slipped an arm around her small waist. "Don't think about it then. It's not that important. But you are." Adam kissed her golden hair.

"Are you going to leave, Adam? Are you going back to the Ponderosa?"

"No, I'm staying. But if I don't get back to my surveying, staying won't be up to me."

And with one final kiss, Adam left for the Rackard property. He had no plans to leave the Silver T and it wasn't just for Ginevra anymore. He had overheard Hannigan tell Lew to get the 'running iron'. That might very well explain why Adam was kept working so close to the house, explain the missing Cartwright steers and the need for grazing land a distance from the Ponderosa. It wasn't a spot any of them would pass on their way to and from town. Any stolen steer would be able to graze without anyone bothering to stop and examine an altered brand.

But before he told his father and Roy Coffee, Adam knew he needed proof, not just suspicion. But the proof would have to wait for another day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Adam jabbed the post hole digger into the ground, separated the two arms and then raised it and dumped the dirt in a pile. He continued again and again until the hole was deep enough. He went to the stack of poles in the back of the buckboard and lifting one out, placed it in the ground and with his boot, pushed the dirt in around it. He stepped heavily on the dirt, ensuring it was packed down around the post. He looked down the line at the posts he had completed. Soon he would have to move the buckboard in order to keep the post supply near.

He reached into his back pocket for his bandanna and wiped his face to keep the sweat from stinging his eyes, his eyebrows not proving much of a deterrent. Adam had stripped off his shirt, eschewed his long johns that morning, but he felt as if his feet inside his boots were slipping and when he raised his arms, he could smell the tang of his own sweat. His dungarees were looser – that was what eating Tarbuck's and not Hop Sing's food did—and his navel along with the strip of pale skin showed where it wasn't tanned.

Adam took a long drink from his canteen and then replaced the stopper when he heard a rider approaching. It was Hannigan.

"Well," Hannigan said, leaning forward in the saddle and grinning, "boss man sent me to check on you, make sure you ain't out here malingering."

Adam turned his back to Hannigan and lay down his canteen. "You have nothing better to do than babysit me?"

"You kiss my ass, Cartwright. You ain't no rich man's son here and just because you think you're gonna get the boss' daughter, well, you got another think coming." Hannigan laughed when he saw the look on Adam's face. "Yeah, you heard what I said."

"What did you mean by that?"

Hannigan suddenly realized he had said too much. "Nothing 'cept if you don't get working and finish these post holes, well, I might have to report that you been slackin'. That's all." Hannigan pulled back on his reins to turn his horse but before he rode away, Adam called to him.

"Hannigan, how many head on the Silver T?"

"What the hell business is it of yours, college boy?" Hannigan almost spat the last words.

"I was just thinking that with all the good grazing land on this ranch, why Sullivan didn't buy more of it or even the whole ranch. I heard the gambler who won it has no interest in ranching so it would only make sense…"

"Stop thinking about things that are none of your goddamn business and get your work done."

"Oh, I'm working. But I wondered if Sullivan hasn't got the money to buy more. Is that it?"

"I wouldn't know and I don't really give a shit. This is enough for half the herd to graze, leaving the other half where they are."

Adam jabbed the post hole digger in the ground and then crossed his hands on top and leaned on it. "I figure only about 100 head can graze here—maybe 150 but that'd be pushing it. So that would make about 200 to 300 head, right? I heard that back in the day, Sullivan ran the biggest herds in the area but had to sell off sections of the Silver T. I bet he regrets that now."

Adam waited but Hannigan sat still, looking down at him; that college boy had managed to wheedle information from him, information he wasn't supposed to give.

"You jam one of them posts up your ass," Hannigan said, his face dark with anger. He turned his horse and kicked it, riding out at a gallop.

Adam chuckled. Then wiped his face again, replaced the bandanna and went back to work. And as he worked, he tried to figure out a way to check the herds for altered Ponderosa brands – or any altered brand. Who knows how many nearby ranchers were missing steer? And Adam was determined to find out.

~ 0 ~

"Hey, Cartwright," Tarbuck said as Adam lay on his cot staring at the ceiling. Adam was wishing he had packed some books before he'd left the Ponderosa. There had been a stack of penny dreadfuls and other pulp novels on a table in the bunkhouse, their pages curled and dog-eared from all the previous readers, and Adam had regretfully read even them. But now there was nothing. He told himself that when he visited the Ponderosa, he'd bring back a stack of books. And a pack of guitar strings. One had snapped and he had no replacement. Otherwise, on an evening like this, he'd sit outside on the bunkhouse steps and strum. And if Ginevra if was in her room, she would sit at her open window, the light behind her, listening while he sang to her. But lately, she had been absent, the light not coming on until around 9:00 in the evening.

"Cartwright! I'm talking to you. How'd you like to play some checkers?" Tarbuck had laid out the board and was now setting up the pieces.

Adam sat up and noticed a look pass between the other three men; he was being set up. Nevertheless, he lowered himself from the bunk to the floor.

"Okay, I'm game, It'll help pass the time anyway." Adam pulled out the chair, the legs scraping the floor and then sat down, the legs scraping again as he scooted in the chair. "I guess I'm the white." Adam looked across at Tarbuck who was grinning at Hannigan, leaning against a bunk whose uprights held nailed photographs of scantily-clad women in provocative poses

"How about making it interesting, say…10 cents a game."

"That's a little high," Adam said. And if he raised his head too high, they would. Tarbuck was the best checker player of the three men and regularly trounced Lew and only losing occasionally to Hannigan. "You forget, I'm not receiving pay. Hell, I have so little money I can't even go into town on a Saturday night." Adam rested his hands on his thighs, waiting. But he hadn't lied. He had left the Ponderosa with only about five dollars in his pocket and most of that in small coins. His father had tried to press some money into his palm when he left Sunday evening but Adam refused. "Pa, if I need money, I'll withdraw from my account in town. I don't need it and I think I'm better off without it anyway."

"Oh, C'mon," Tarbuck said, "you can afford 10 cents a game. Besides, maybe you'll win."

"Not much chance of that, besides, my brother, Hoss," Adam said, "is the checker champ in our family. He'll beat me over and over and then take on Joe. Has no mercy on the kid—just crushes him. Says it'll teach the boy to have more respect for his elders."

"Wait a minute," Tarbuck said, "you saying that big ol' brother of yours is a checker champ? He's what? 15, 16? Don't seem that smart to me."

"16, but don't let him fool you with that act - he's quite the strategist, almost Napoleonic."

"What's that mean?" Lew asked.

"It means he thinks like Napoleon – plans offensive strategies like him," Adam said.

"Don't know him," Tarbuck said, frowning.

"Me neither," Lew said. "He a hand on the Ponderosa?"

Adam suppressed a smile. "No, he's French."

"Oh," Tarbuck said, "a damn foreigner. Well, you up for a wager on a game or not?"

"I guess I can afford to lose a half dollar, maybe a whole dollar – but that's it. Adam stood up, fished into the pocket of his dungarees and pulled out a handful of coins and pushed them about in his palm counting them. He slapped the coins beside the board and sat back down." A dollar seventy." Adam grinned as he looked across the table, "I guess I go first."

~ 0 ~

Tarbuck won the first three games from Adam and grinned as Adam paid him his thirty cents.

"Glad to see you pay up," Tarbuck said as he dropped the silver in his shirt pocket. "If you were a welcher, well, we have ways to deal with them."

"Don't see how I can avoid it," Adam said, "with Hannigan and Lew watching - why they'd probably hold me upside down and shake me until the coins fell outta my pockets."

Tarbuck and Lew laughed but Hannigan just watched.

"We damn sure would!" Lew said slapping his thigh and rocking back.

"Well, anyone want to play the winner?" Adam asked, scooting back his chair. "You're welcome to take my place."

"Oh, c'mon," Tarbuck said, setting up the pieces again. "Don't you want to get your money back?"

"I don't know that I can. I mean, at 10 cents a game we could back and forth all night. Besides, I don't want to be tapped out."

Tarbuck looked at Hannigan who nodded conspiratorially. "Okay, how 'bout we raise the stakes to say… 25 cents a game?" Tarbuck proposed.

"That's a little rich but….okay."

Tarbuck grinned and studied the board as if he had never seen a checker piece before; after all, the first move was his and he had learned that the first move can win or lose a game. He lost.

~ 0 ~

"You cheated," Tarbuck said as he reluctantly gave up his last quarter.

"How could I cheat? All three of you were watching. I didn't have a checker piece up my sleeve or deal one off the bottom like an ace."

"I don't know how you did it but you did. Or you lied – said you were a bad player."

"No, I didn't. I never did. I just said my brother Hoss was better. But that might've been stretching the truth a bit. But then every time you talk about how you ram all the ladies in Miss Ora's house until they sing, well, I think that's stretching the truth too—stretching it all the way to Texas."

Tarbuck jumped up, his chair toppling over, as Lew hooted with delight. "I'll kick your ass all the way back to the Ponderosa for that, Catwright. C'mon. Stand up and fight!" Tarbuck took an offensive stance, ready to fend off Adam should he accept the challenge.

Adam put up his hands to indicate he wasn't about to fight while Hannigan grabbed Tarbuck's arm.

"Just settle down. Take it easy."

"You heard what he said! I'm supposed to sit for that? And he won all my money! All my money! All goddamn six dollars! Hell, it's two weeks till payday and I ain't got nothin' but 10 cents left to my name."

"Shame," Adam said, "Can't even buy a two-bit whore for that."

Hannigan paused, holding Tarbuck still while the man cursed Adam. But Adam waited. He knew there was more to come.

"What if I get your money back for you?" Hannigan asked, loosening his grip on Tarbuck as the man's anger slowly dissipated.

"Think you can?" Tarbuck asked, moving about to rid himself of his energy.

Hannigan patted Tarbuck's shoulder. "I think I can."

"Okay, Hannigan. You do that. Get my money from him – all of it! And I'm gonna sit and watch and, Cartwright, I'm gonna enjoy it. I'm gonna really enjoy it."

Adam only smiled while Hannigan righted the chair and took Tarbuck's place.

"I'll let you go first," Adam said.

"You know what? How 'bout making this a nice clean kill, so to speak; it's past midnight and I'm a little done-in."

"Well, it is late. So what d'you have in mind?" Adam was on alert; the game was being changed.

"Lew, gimme that deck of cards." Lew went to the table that held the "library" and opened the drawer, taking out a deck of cards and handed them to Hannigan. "We cut for the highest card, okay?"

Adam considered. The deck wasn't marked, that he knew. It was the same deck they always used; it had become grimy and greasy. But he didn't trust Hannigan, mainly because Hannigan always won the card games against Lew and Tarbuck, no matter what they played.

"Okay," Adam said. "High card wins."

"That's right," Tarbuck said, taunting Adam. "You're gonna lose, Cartwright. Ain't nobody ever beats Hannigan at cards."

"Not yet," Adam said. "But, you know, instead of money, if I win, how about my getting off tomorrow?"

Hannigan laughed. "You can ask for the crown jewels for all I care, 'cause you're not gonna win. So, if you win, you keep the money and get tomorrow off. But if I win, well, I get your money and…that horse of yours. That's a mighty fine piece of horseflesh."

Adam agreed and Hannigan handed the cards to him to shuffle first. Adam held onto the deck. "One other condition. Lew shuffles the cards – not me, not you, not Tarbuck. Only Lew." Adam waited and watched as Hannigan began to look a bit nervous; the corner of his mouth twitched. Adam was sure that Hannigan's luck at cards was more a matter of legerdemain than skill. He had watched over and over as Hannigan curled his three fingers along the deck of cards, inserting his index finger whenever he wanted to deal off the bottom. So, Adam waited. He didn't see that Hannigan had a way out of the proposition. The man had won so much money off Lew and Tarbuck over just the few weeks that Adam had been there, that if Hannigan insisted on shuffling the cards himself, it would raise doubts in both the other men's minds about the integrity of their losses.

Hannigan looked at Lew and Tarbuck. Then back at Adam who waited.

"All right. All right. Lew, come shuffle the cards."

Adam could see the sweat start on Hannigan's brow. It was now truly going to be mere chance as to who won and who lost. They watched Lew awkwardly shuffle the deck, dropping half of them on the floor and then gathering them up again, He apologized, said he never had much luck with cards – the good cards seemed to jump from his hands while the bad ones stuck. But finally, after shuffling the cards three more times, Lew placed the deck in the middle of the checkerboard.

"You first, Cartwright. I agreed to your condition. Mine is, you cut first."

Adam sighed. He nodded and then reached toward the deck, his hand hovering over it indecisively. He put his fingers and thumb on the sides of the deck and picked up a small stack of cards. He raised it to show the others before he saw it himself. The others smiled while Tarbuck said, "Hah!" Adam knew then he had a low card. He turned his wrist to see; he had a seven of hearts. He replaced the stack on the deck.

"Looks like it's my turn," Hannigan said, grinning. He looked at Tarbuck and Lew and they smiled back. He reached for the cards and picked up a section and held it out for show.

"Ah, shit!" Tarbuck said. "Goddamn it!"

"Looks like I have my day off and a little extra money to boot." Adam stood up, stretched, scooped up his winnings and headed for his bunk. He'd sleep well tonight.

Lew just shook his head. "Looks like Lady Luck is just a damn whore."

"Ain't that the truth," Tarbuck mumbled.

Hannigan looked at his card – the three of spades. He had nothing to say, just sat at the table. And he continued to sit there until he was the only one not snoring.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Adam lay in his bunk while the other three men dressed and downed cups of coffee and ate left-over biscuits from the night before. Since they had played so late into the evening, Tarbuck had slept more soundly and unlike most mornings, hadn't risen before the others to make the coffee. When Adam had first arrived, Tarbuck pushed the chore of making breakfast on him but after two mornings of scorched coffee, under-cooked bacon and soggy pancakes, Tarbuck took back making breakfast.

"Better that then having to stomach this gluey mess," Tarbuck had stated as he scraped the combination of undercooked batter and syrup off his plate into the tin pan used for scraps for the hogs.

Adam lay and listened until he heard the sound of their horses ride out but it was only two horses. He looked out the window as he reheated the left-over coffee and in a few minutes, Hannigan came from the big house, mounted his horse and rode off. Adam dressed and drank the coffee – it was bitter.

Adam stood on the bunkhouse porch and looked at the house. It was quiet. Adam knew Hannigan had probably reported his day off and he smiled, thinking how angry Sullivan must be. As Adam headed across the yard to the barn, he wondered what Ginevra was doing? Had she heard her stepfather ranting when he heard Hannigan's report? Was she upset to hear him railing against Adam? Sometimes Adam would still see her at the window, looking down at him, but he ached to hold her, to hear her voice, to smell her honey hair. And often, in the evenings, while Ginevra stood at her window while Adam sat strumming on the porch or just sitting and enjoying the cool evening, Sullivan sat on his front porch, smoking a cigar and sipping coffee or brandy, standing guard like Cerberus. Apparently, Sullivan had caught on to him and Ginevra and their late night 'courting,' as it was. And as Adam saddled up his horse, he considered the contradictory aphorisms – "Out of sight, out of mind," and "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." Which one would apply to Ginevra should they be separated? Adam remembered his father once saying that a young heart can't be broken – it's too resilient.

Adam saddled his horse and turned it to lead it out of the barn when Ginevra stood in the doorway, her cheeks flushed.

"Oh, Adam!" She rushed to him and threw herself into his arms, pulling his face down to her to kiss him.

Weeks of pent-up longing broke forth and Adam pulled Ginevra tighter, crushing her breasts against him, his hands sliding down the curve of her back. He felt the hot pressure of her thighs against him. He yearned for her and felt he could kiss her mouth for eternity, feeding from it.

"Oh, Adam," she whispered after they had parted, "I have to see you! I heard you have the day off. We can meet. Isn't it wonderful! Just say when and where and I'll be there. Oh, Adam."

"Ginevra, I have some things I need…" But before he could say more, Jinjing stood inside the barn door.

"Missy, Ginny, you come now!" She motioned with her hand. "Now! You need come now!"

"No, I'm talking with Adam. Leave us alone and go back to the house."

"Ginevra, maybe you should…" Adam noticed Jinjing look out the door to the house. Suddenly she rushed in and grabbed Ginevra's wrist and pulled her to the back of the barn.

"JInjing!" Ginevra protested, "Let me go!"

But Jinjing pulled her into one of the stalls and then jerked the girl's arm to make her crouch. Jinjing held her finger to her mouth indicating silence. Adam saw why; Sullivan came storming to the barn as Adam was leading out his horse; they almost collided.

"Where the hell do you think you're going, Cartwright?"

Adam's first impulse was to respond, "Wherever the hell I want," but he didn't. Instead, he decided to put Sullivan in a bad position. "I won the day off – from Hannigan. I'm surprised he didn't tell you. I'd think your foreman would tell you everything. You might consider what else he might be holding back."

"You think you're smart, don't you?" Sullivan said. "But don't start thinking you've won. There are six more months to go."

"I don't think I'm particularly smart." Adam swung himself up on his saddle. "Just smarter than Hannigan."

"I want that fence finished."

"I only have one day off – unless I win another card game from Hannigan; maybe get the whole month off then. But I'll finish it tomorrow. Lew said they won't be moving any cattle on to it for another week." Adam's horse tucked its head and danced backwards.

"See that you do," Sullivan said, frowning.

"Sir," Adam said as he tipped his hat. He kicked his horse and rode away in the direction of town. He intended to take the long way around, swing around the perimeter of the Silver T and check out the steers and calves for altered brands. If he found any, he'd head to the Ponderosa to tell his father, then to town to let Roy know.

Sullivan looked back at the barn. He hadn't found his daughter in the house and suspected that she had headed out to the barn to see Adam He stepped back inside and listened. The two horses left in their stalls, moved about and snuffled but he heard nothing else. But he was no fool. He walked down the center of the barn and then he saw them – Jinjing and Ginevra crouching down in the back of an empty stall.

Sullivan bent down and grabbed Jinjing by her hair, jerking her to her feet. His arm swung out and he slapped her; she would have fallen but he held on to her hair and slapped her again calling her a "Sneaky bitch."

Ginevra held on to his arm. "Stop! Stop! She didn't do anything! Stop! I was talking to Adam and she tried to help me!"

Sullivan pushed Ginevra aside and she hit the stall wall and slid to the sawdust covered ground. No one had ever struck her before and she was physically and mentally stunned.

Still holding Jinjing by the hair, Sullivan turned on his stepdaughter, his face contorted with rage. "Get in the house! Get in the house now!"

Sobbing, Ginevra ran to the house, flew up the stairs and with shaking hands, locked herself in her room. Then she sat on her bed and waited.

In the barn, Jinjing began to cry and plead, saying she was sorry, very sorry, very, very sorry.

"I'll make you sorry. I'll make you sorry you were ever born." And even the horses stomped in their stalls and tossed their heads as Sullivan delivered one blow after another to Jinjing's small body until he was out of breath. Then he released her hair and she collapsed on the filthy sawdust. He managed to get out of the barn and sit on the low bench outside, not even noticing the bruising on his knuckles.. He looked at the house and his palms itched. He wanted to inflict a punishment on Ginevra as well but knew he couldn't, not the way he had Jinjing. But he thought of taking a razor strop to her. He would receive a great deal of satisfaction from seeing her writhe as the red welts rose on her smooth thighs, seeing her small back criss-crossed with thick red lines.

But that would have to wait until they were married, Sullivan considered. Then Ginevra would have no say in what he did with her and to her. She would legally be his and most important of all, she would be of age, no longer a disobedient child but a disobedient wife. And everyone knew a wife was to obey her husband. Ginevra would learn it as well.

But the thought of Ginevra at his mercy had roused him and Sullivan considered his options. Then he headed back into the barn to find more satisfaction with Jinjing.

~ 0 ~

Twice Adam had pulled up his horse to listen. The back of his neck prickled as if someone was covertly watching him, following him and he listened for hooves but heard nothing. He shrugged it off. Sullivan might be following him but he doubted it. That man always had someone else do his dirty work so if anyone was following him, it would be Hannigan. So, Adam waited longer to see if his horse would call out to Hannigan's or Hannigan's horse call to his but nothing.

He rode out further and saw a small herd of steer grazing on a plot owned by Sullivan and far enough away from the Ponderosa not to be noticed. Adam rode in among the herd, the steers ignoring him. He dismounted and walked over to run his hand over the brand, the Sullivan brand. He examined it more closely.

It was a new brand. He had heard something a few months ago about Sullivan registering a new brand with the Cattleman's Association in Carson City. And this was it – a large T with an S impressed over it. Using a running iron, the stylized pine brand of the Ponderosa could easily be altered to the new Silver T brand. Adam checked more of the steers who all had the new brand but one brand was ineptly done. Adam looked more closely and could see it wasn't a perfect match-up; it was even embarrassingly amateurish and anyone could see where the brand had been altered.

Adam glanced around. He was closer to the Ponderosa than town and if he left the steer alone, well, it might be hidden or slaughtered before he could bring it in as evidence. One piece of evidence like this steer would be all he needed. Using the excuse that it was a maverick and therefore, legally claimed by Sullivan, wouldn't hold up in court as this steer had obviously already been branded. And with the Ponderosa pine brand.

He took the rope from his saddle and looped it around the steer's neck, Then he remounted, wound the excess rope about his saddle horn and led the steer to the Ponderosa, the animal reluctantly following, twisting it's head in an attempt to free itself from the noose but eventually, placidly allowing itself to be led.

The day was becoming hot and Adam knew that by noon, the sun would be scorching. Already his hatband was wet and his horse would be covered with frothy sweat so he rode leisurely along, the steer bellowing on occasion, wanting to rejoin its companions. It was only a heartbeat behind the stinging pain in his left arm, that Adam heard the gunshot. Adam jumped from his horse, rolled on the ground and hid among the high grass while his horse started off, stopping soon after. The two animals, the horse and the steer, finding they weren't being urged on anymore, dropped their heads and began to rip hunks of the lush grass.

Adam pulled his gun while he lay on his belly. His hat—he reached up and pulled off his hat, tossing it a short distance. A shot again rang out and Adam ducked but it harmlessly hit the ground a few feet away, dirt flying. Adam needed to raise his head to see who was shooting but he was afraid. His hand was so sweaty that he worried he'd drop his gun if he tried to aim – and his arm burned as if set on fire. Adam had never aimed a gun at a man before – at least not with the actual intent to kill.

Once when Indians had come to the Ponderosa, skulking in the trees surrounding the ranch house, his father had given him a rifle, a .22, one Adam knew how to handle. Hop Sing and Hoss were lying flat on the floor and Hoss, who was still young, had begun to cry. Hoss knew Indians had killed his mother, having heard the story.

"Adam, get at that window and if you see any Indians approach, just fire at them. Don't even worry about aiming – just shoot," Ben had said.

"But, Pa, what if I…what if I kill one? Isn't that a sin?" The thought of killing another human being, even it was someone trying to kill them, was horrific. He had killed animals before, helped chop heads off chickens, helped slaughter hogs and shot deer and once, a coyote with a Ponderosa chicken in its jaws, but a man – that was another thing.

"Adam, God knows you don't have malice in your heart but that you're protecting your family. It wouldn't be a sin."

So, Adam had crouched at the open window, tears sliding down his cheeks as he held his rifle. But eventually, the Indians had slunk away and Adam had never had to fire a shot.

Here he was, lying in the tall grass and someone was trying to kill him. And if he raised his head too high, they would. Blood was running down his left arm, smearing the matted grass and his whole arm screamed with pain. The thought went through Adam's mind that if killed, he might lie there for days before he was found and maybe a bear or some wolves would've already started on his carcass by the time he was found, the ants crawling up his nostrils and the buzzards already having torn holes in his soft belly to get the tender organs.

Another bullet zinged past his head and that's when Adam took a chance and raised his head. He could see the sun glinting off the barrel of a rifle among some trees on the far side of the open area. He wouldn't be able to outshoot a rifle. But he fired anyway. Then dropped down again and rolled over in the grass a few feet, wincing as he rolled on his wounded arm. A rifle shot resounded again and Adam saw the dirt kick up where he had been.

Adam glanced at his horse which had moved further after the last gunshot. He might be able to sprint and reach it but there was no way he could mount-up and keep from being shot out of the saddle. He looked up at the sun and guessed it to be a little after 11:00. He could be kept pinned down in this grass for hours.

"Damn it all," he said to himself. "You fool, letting yourself get in this situation." And his hat was still in the grass as well. He had nothing to keep the heat off his head. But he couldn't lie there all day and he was no match for a rifle. All he could do was wait.

He lay on his back and his arm continued to bleed – and burn. "I'll just lie here and bleed to death." He wanted to wrap his bandanna around his upper arm where the flesh was split but he couldn't due to the situation. And then another shot rang out and Adam turned his head as he heard a loud thump, even felt slight vibrations. Adam raised his head slightly. The steer was lying on its side and his horse had tried to run off but the steer was too much of a weight. It stopped, the rope taut.

"Damn it," Adam said and dropped his head in frustration. He couldn't take the steer to the Ponderosa now and he couldn't get out of his trap. But if he could hold out until dark, for another eight hours or so… He waited. Every so often a shot would ring out but Adam didn't think whoever it was shooting, was particularly aiming. He considered the person knew he was injured, might be waiting for him to bleed-out. Adam looked at his arm, at the blood staining the grass, and considered it a good possibility. After about another hour, Adam heard the distant sound of a horse leaving and gingerly raised his head. He couldn't see the rifle barrel anymore so he raised his head even higher, expecting at any time to be killed but nothing – no shot, no sound, no glint of sun off metal.

Adam waited a few minutes more, sweat rolling down his cheeks. His arm throbbed and by now, his left-hand was sticky with blood, and fat black flies were buzzing about wanting to land on the ripped flesh. Adam crouched and hurried to his horse. Unable to use his left arm well, Adam managed to make it into the saddle. He untied the rope from the saddle horn and kicked his horse – hard – hoping he could stay on as his head was spinning. He wanted to be home, home on the Ponderosa.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Ginevra sat stiffly at the table while Jinjing served lunch. Ginevra noticed the fading red splotch on Jinjing's cheek but as usual, the housekeeper never met anyone's eyes as she served. Titus Sullivan sat at his end of the table, not speaking except to say, "That will be enough." With that, Jinjing bowed and left the dining room.

"I'm very disappointed in you," Titus said as he dipped the silver soup spoon into the bowl of creamy chicken soup. "It's not so much that you snuck to the barn to see Adam Cartwright – something I expressly forbade, but that you hid from me. You made me lose my temper with you."

"I…" Ginevra wanted to say what happened, that Jinjing had pulled her to their hiding spot but she knew that the housekeeper would only receive more punishment, perhaps even tossed from the house. "I'm sorry, father. I apologize. I'll…it won't happen again. I promise." She picked up the spoon but had no appetite. Nevertheless, she knew she had to behave as if all was normal.

"I'm sure it won't," Titus said, "because you and I are going to Europe."

"What? Europe?"

"Yes. It's time we expanded your horizons. All you've known is Philadelphia and the girl's school and here – and there's nothing here but stinking cowboys and coyotes. No wonder you think that that Adam Cartwright is so wonderful. You've never really known a true man. Perhaps on our trip, you'll meet one, meet a real man. Perhaps…a prince or a wealthy aristocrat…or, well, there are many other types of men. Also, you and I don't really know each other since you were gone for so many years. On the trip, we can become closer as a father and daughter should be. I can guide you, help you mature in many ways and teach you many valuable things."

"I don't want to go to Europe. In six more months, Adam and I can marry. You said so and it's what I'm counting on. Oh, father, I love him so! And he loves me! You said we could marry!"

"That was a mistake. I see it was now."

"But you promised!"

"Don't raise your voice to me, young lady!" Ginevra dropped her head as Titus slapped a palm on the table. "You think that Adam loves you. You silly little fool! He loved Teresa and you're just a substitute for him. He and his father have always been in cahoots to take my land and one of their strategies is to marry one of my daughters and then dispose of her."

"That's not true. Adam loves me and he had nothing to do with Teresa's death."

"You listen to me, young lady," Titus said wagging a finger at her. "While you were at school in Philadelphia, Adam Cartwright squired Teresa everywhere. She loved him too but all he did was dishonor her, not bring her home until late, her clothes disheveled and her face smeared with tears. Your mother and I saw her in that state, tried to comfort her and I wanted to kill that young man. Your mother wanted Adam to marry her but I refused. I wouldn't have such a seducer as a son-in-law, a libertine, a man with no moral principles. He left Teresa….left her ruined, and I wanted him arrested.

"Instead of making his son own up to what he'd done, Ben sent Adam east to school and I couldn't press charges, couldn't do anything with him so far away. That was Ben Cartwright's way of avoiding any gossip about Adam and any legal repercussions. He just sent his son away and laughed in my face. So now you know why Adam is talking love and marriage to you. You're just a sorry replacement for Teresa." Titus had no qualms about creating such a story and sullying both Teresa's and Adam's name. After all, both Teresa and her mother, Livy, were dead. The only people to refute his story would be Adam and Ben and it would be obvious to anyone why they would lie.

Silence fell over the room and Ginevra sat still, trying to understand all her stepfather had told her. That could be why Adam had started to behave less and less like he wanted to marry her. He had hoped she was like her sister but she wasn't. No, she wasn't like Teresa. And Ginevra remembered how Teresa had always been soft on Adam, always thought he was so handsome and smart – and she used to say when they were still children how she wanted to marry him. Ginevra had only teased her sister about it. And then, once her mother married Titus Sullivan, Ginevra had been sent to her aunt's to go to school. What had happened during her absence, she never really knew. But perhaps what her stepfather had told her was true. No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be!

"May I be excused?" Ginevra practically whispered.

"You haven't touched your lunch. At least eat your soup."

"I'm not hungry. Please, may I be excused?"

"I suppose. Why don't you go through your wardrobe and choose what you want to pack for our trip? Make note of anything you'll need and tomorrow we'll go into town, have lunch together and I'll wire San Francisco shipping lines for fares to Europe. We'll leave as soon as arrangements can be made."

Ginevra placed her napkin on the table and stood up. Her face was bloodless.

"Oh, and Ginevra, stay away from Adam Cartwright. Do you understand?"

She slowly nodded and then walked out of the dining room. Titus Sullivan smiled to himself. Things would be different once they were on foreign soil; the Europeans were much more sophisticated about carnal matters. Perhaps he would even take Ginevra to the middle east where women were the complete property of their husbands who had absolute authority. Yes, Titus thought, he could easily mold Ginevra to suit his needs.

He chuckled. It was so easy to outwit those Cartwrights, and when he and Ginevra finally returned – if they returned, she would be his completely. If not his wife, then his well-trained mistress. He would have the last laugh on them all.

~ 0 ~

As he walked to the barn to saddle his horse, Ben Cartwright was stunned to see Adam ride into the yard, practically leaning on his horse's neck. His left side, including the leg of his dungaree where he had rested his hand, was soaked in blood.

Now Adam lay on a blanket on the settee, his shirt having been cut off and his arm cleaned with Ben's best Irish whiskey.

"Damn it, Pa! Christ, that hurts!" Adam winced, arched his neck, and gritted his teeth. Being shot hadn't hurt as much as the whiskey that lit his arm on fire.

"Don't use the Lord's name in vain," Ben said as he poured more whiskey over the open wound on Adam's arm. The whiskey pooled red in the bowl over which his arm was laid.

"Now I know why the Indians call it firewater!"

Hop Sing had brought out a stack of clean towels and now he stood over Ben's shoulder.

"What do you think, Hop Sing?" Ben asked as the Chinese housekeeper examined the wound.

"Not good. Look like when plow go through ground." Ben had to agree, the bullet had split the flesh apart almost to the bone. "I go get needle and heavy thread." Hop Sing hurried to the chest where the sewing kit was kept.

Adam sat up and he suddenly felt nauseated. He was feverish – he could tell, but he wasn't sitting still for this. "Wait! I'm not being sewn together like a ripped pair of dungarees!"

"This arm needs to be closed," Ben said. He moved the bowl and put a heavy towel under Adam's arm. "It won't heal right if it isn't and it's more likely to just bleed and bleed. You've lost enough blood as it is."

Hop Sing returned with the sewing box and a glass of water that had an odd tint

"Here, you drink." Hop Sing held the glass in front of Adam. He awkwardly pulled himself up higher and[Js1] [Js2] took the glass. As soon as he tasted the acrid flavor, he knew it was laudanum. He drank it off quickly while Hop Sing pushed another pillow behind his head.

"Hand me that bottle, would you, Pa," Adam said and he watched Hop Sing hold a match to a needle, heating it all the way through. According to him, his Chinese ancestors had taught that fire makes things pure and one needed a pure needle to cut through flesh. Adam, watching the preparations, took a slug from the bottle.

"Now," Ben said, "While you're still able to make sense, who shot you?"

"I'm not sure. More than likely it was Hannigan, the foreman. I don't know if it was on orders from Sullivan or just because he's pissed I beat him at a card cut and won the day off." Adam took another slug of whiskey.

"Think he tried to kill you?"

"First, I don't know it was Hannigan and second, if he wanted to kill me, I think he could have – easily. He shot the steer through the head and it dropped like a felled tree – never even made a sound." Adam finished off the bottle and he felt himself getting fuzzy around the edges as if he wasn't sure where he ended and the settee began. The light from the un-shuttered windows seemed to burn through his eyes straight to his brain and he began to feel he was slowly dropping down in a well. Adam settled himself back down on the settee and shut his eyes.

"What steer?" Ben motioned for Hop Sing.

"I was bringing it back – wanted to show you. It had an altered brand. Titus' men are rustlin' our cattle. But it was shot near the west road. Had to leave it." Adam had the sensation he was dropping into a vast emptiness. From far away he heard his father call his name but as much as he wanted to, he couldn't respond. He noticed the feel of hands on his arm, confident, strong, warm hands and then the feel of a sharp, deep pain. But not for long. Not for long at all.

~ 0 ~

"I'm telling you, Roy, Sullivan had Adam shot!"

Roy Coffee opened his hands, his palms turned toward heaven. "You have no proof. You told me yourself you have no proof. Now what do you expect me to do?"

"Something! I expect you to do something! Arrest him!"

"For what? I can't go arrest Sullivan just on your say-so. You don't even have a bullet I can try and match with one of their rifles."

"Thank God for that! It was just a deep crease – no bullet to dig out - but my boy's been shot."

"Didn't you say Adam was taking one of the Silver T's steers?"

"Yes, but it was one of mine, I told you, Sullivan's been stealing my cattle and altering brands. He registered a new brand about two months ago and that's just about the same time, almost to the day, that we started missing cattle."

"Well, you bring in that steer and I can talk to Sullivan about cattle-rustling. 'Course, he can always claim he had no knowledge about any of it. He's not a walking boss. And any of his men can claim Adam was rustlin' one of their steer unless I can see the proof of the altered brand."

"The steer's been killed. Adam said it was shot through the head. I have men out trying to find it. Hoss and Seamus are in Carson City on business – took Little Joe along - or I'd put all of them on it. They'll find that steer and then you'll see."

"Good. I hope you're right. I'd really like to know who shot Adam . You say he'll be fine?"

"Should be. I asked Doc to check in on him but Hop Sing and I filled him with laudanum and whiskey so he could be stitched-up. He's gonna have a bad scar."

"I'll stop by this evening and take Adam's statement, ask him a few questions and maybe I'll have a lead. Keep him clear-headed for me – no more laudanum until after I get there. Now, how about a cup of coffee?" Roy asked. "I even have a bottle in my drawer for a little extra flavor."

"No thanks, Roy. Not now. I have to go by Sullivan's and tell him Adam won't be returning for a few days but if Adam'll listen to me, he'll never return to the Silver T."

"Now, Ben, don't you go causing any trouble over there, making accusations about cattle rustling and of shooting Adam. It might be you I'll havta lock up!"

"Well, if you're so damn worried, come along with me." Ben opened one arm in a gesture of welcome.

"I think I'll do just that."

* * *

[Js1]and

[Js2]


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"I shot him like you wanted," Hannigan said with a half-smile. He was proud of his handiwork and secretly hoped Adam was worse off than he'd seemed. Sullivan sat at his desk smoking one of his cigars. "You should've let me kill him, Boss. That bastard was taking one of them steers for a little walk, probably straight to the Ponderosa."

"Did you get the steer back?"

"Shot it in the head. I watched for a while and Cartwright, managed, even with that shot arm of his'n, to get back on his horse and ride away but he had to leave the proof behind. But I brought you this." Hannigan placed a small, rolled-up piece of furry cattle hide, smeared with blood on the desk top.

"What the hell is that? Get that filth off my desk!" Sullivan was repulsed by blood – a weakness he always sought to hide.

Hannigan picked it up and unrolled it. He showed the section of cow hide where the altered brand had been. "This was one of the early brands, before we got good with the running iron. My guess is that Cartwright wanted to show the steer to Sheriff Coffee and the Cattleman's association and of course, his daddy."

Sullivan shook his head and smirked. "That Adam is one crafty sonovabitch. I should've had you kill him, now that I think of it – give Ben something else to keep him busy. But rest assured, that pleasure may well yet be yours. Now take that and burn it, bury it, or toss it to the hogs."

Sullivan turned his chair about to the open window behind him; he'd heard hoofbeats. He rose and stood at the window, leaning out while Hannigan looked over his shoulder.

"Damn," Sullivan said. "It's Ben Cartwright and Roy Coffee." Sullivan stood up again. He glanced about. "Wipe off that bloody smear on my desk there and head out the kitchen door. And toss that damn thing in the hog pen."

Hannigan took his bandana and wiped the desk clean, then headed toward the door but stopped when Sullivan spoke. "Where are Tarbuck and Les?"

"In the bunkhouse playin' checkers. Cartwright men are all over the area so we had to call it a day."

Sullivan nodded. "Take a few bottles of whiskey with you – one for each of you."

"Yes, sir!" Hannigan said, and grinning, pulled three bottles of whiskey from the cabinet and tucked them under his arm. "Doesn't leave you with much."

"Don't worry about it. Just go." Hannigan nodded and left. Sullivan sat back and waited, the sweat starting on his brow. What might Ben know and what had he told Roy? Roy, that nosy busybody, always with that suspicious squint of his. After a few more minutes, Jinjing led Ben and Roy Coffee to Sullivan's office, her head ducked down. Ben noticed she walked awkwardly and slowly, as if in pain but said nothing. Then she turned and left.

"Well," Sullivan said, rising from his chair. It was a warm day so he had rolled up his sleeves but his gray shirt showed damp areas of sweat with darker half-moons under his large arms. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He held out his hand and Roy took it but Ben avoided shaking the proffered hand. "Can I offer either of you a drink? Bourbon? Brandy? I have a bottle of good Napoleonic brandy."

"None for me," Roy said.

"Ben? How about a nice brandy?"

"No. The only reason I'm here is because Adam's been shot."

"Shot? How awful. I assume that since you didn't say he'd been killed, he's all right, well, except for being shot. I suppose that's why you're with Ben, Roy. Heading out to the Ponderosa to see wha you can find out?"

"Yeah," Roy said. "I'm hoping to ask Adam a few questions."

"Well, why don't you two sit down a minute? No sense in us standing. Take a load off." Sullivan sat back down. "Please, sit."

"No, thank you," Ben said. "I just want to let you know Adam won't be here tomorrow to work. How long it'll be before he can work again is up to Doc Martin. Might be a month or two"

"That's a shame," Sullivan said, he put out his cigar. "I had him dropping posts for a fence to mark my new property line. I bought some of Rackard's acreage from that gambler, Dayton. He won it from Rackard. Now I'm going to have to put someone else on it. Well," Sullivan said, sitting back and propping his clasped hands on his belly, "I guess my agreement with Adam over marrying Ginevra is null and void. She'll be disappointed, very disappointed."

"Yes, I'm sure. But Adam is a patient man – if there's something worth waiting for," Ben said.

"Well," Sullivan said, rising to indicate they were to leave, "I might just have to take Ginevra on a trip to cheer her up, introduce her to other marriageable men. Sorry about Adam though. Glad it's nothing too serious. Now did you have business with me, Roy?"

"No, I have no business. Just riding this way with Ben. Evenin'," Roy said and he and Ben left the room and left the house.

"I'm telling you, Roy, that smiling, lying bastard had Adam shot!" Ben mounted his horse.

Roy was already on his mount. "That may be but, Ben, like I said, I have to have a reason, a good reason to arrest him. If one of his men shot Adam, well, they'll be talking this Friday night in town. I'll ask around – men can't help but talk about what they've done – good or bad- especially when their tongues've been loosened with cheap whiskey."

They rode at an easy gait on the road to the Ponderosa. A few miles from the ranch house, they met a Ponderosa rider and all three stopped.

"I was lookin' for you, Mr. Cartwright. We found the steer."

"Good man!" Ben turned to Roy. "Now you'll see! Now you'll have proof of rustling."

"Not quite," the ranch hand said. "Once we shooed off the buzzards, well, the hide where the brand would've been was sliced away. Whoever did it wanted to remove the evidence."

Now Roy was interested. "Can you show us?"

"Yeah, I can. It's this way, but it's getting' dark fast." The man rode off with Ben Cartwright and Roy Coffee behind him.

~ 0 ~

The odor of dinner wafted into his office and Sullivan, as was his wont, tried to predict what supper would be by the smells. The smell was savory but it lacked the subtle rich undertones of beef. He sniffed. Chicken – roast chicken with hot biscuits. He could smell the welcoming odor of baking dough. There was something about hot biscuits that always made the house feel welcoming and happy. Sullivan could already taste the butter and honey he'd slather on the open biscuits. He sat back and closed his eyes, smiling. Hot biscuits for dinner and also, Adam Cartwright wouldn't be back; he had won.

"Father?"

Sullivan opened his eyes. Ginevra stood just inside the doorway.

"Yes?" Ginevra was going to ruin his hard-won peace of mind. He had planned out everything and she was going to be the fly in the ointment. A girl like her should have been beaten early on but since she had grown-up away from him, Ginevra had become stubborn and had odd ideas about women being independent and even taking on careers as nurses or teachers. The girl was a fool. Teresa had been much more tractable.

Ginevra opened her mouth twice before she finally managed to say what she had prepared. Up in her room she had sat and considered what her stepfather had said about going to Europe. She didn't want to leave Adam. He might very well fall in love with someone else while she was away. The idea of her returning from Europe as a sophisticated, grown, beautiful woman in the latest French fashions and winning Adam away from any woman he might be with – or married to – amused her, but only for a few minutes. She wanted Adam sooner, not in two years.

"I appreciate the…idea of a trip, but I don't want to go to Europe. I want to stay here."

"If you think Adam Cartwright is going to marry you…"

"I remember what you said," Ginevra added as she took one more step inside, "that he was in love with Teresa, but that was years ago."

"Ben Cartwright was just here." Sullivan took satisfaction in the look of surprise and then her crestfallen expression as she realized what Ben visiting just might mean. "Adam won't be returning. He sent his father to tell me. I guess Adam is too much of a coward to face us himself and sent his daddy to take care of things. Ben also said that Adam will be going out of town. He said it's on business but I got the impression, well, that Adam just wants to get away for a while, to let things cool down between you two. I'm sorry, Ginevra. Now, have you started packing?"

Ginevra began to shake at the thought of defiance but she forced herself on. "I'm not going to Europe. I want to stay here. Adam will return and I want to hear how he feels about me from him - not you, not his father – from him."

Sullivan stood up and walked around his desk and approached Ginevra. "You will go pack. We're taking the first stage to San Francisco out of Carson City tomorrow morning. Once we get to San Francisco, then I'll arrange our passage. Now go pack. I'll call you for dinner." Sullivan stood and waited.

"I won't go! I'll kill myself first!" Ginevra began to cry but her hands were in fists at her sides.

"Kill yourself? Fine?" Sullivan grabbed Ginevra by the wrist and jerked her into the parlor and beyond, into the back room where a gun cabinet stood along with a leather sofa, an Indian patterned rug, the heads of a deer, a cougar, a big horn sheep and a wolf on the walls and high shelves with books she had never been allowed to see. The room with its animal heads looking down at her had always frightened Ginevra and now she was frightened even more.

Sullivan opened the gun cabinet and pulled out a long-barreled hand gun, He checked to be certain it was loaded and then turned and grabbed Ginevra's hand. He slapped the gun into it.

"Here! You want to kill yourself, use this." He stood back and enjoyed the terrified look on Ginevra's face. "I suggest you put the barrel in your mouth and then pull the trigger with both thumbs. It'll take some strength but at least you can be sure to blow out the back of your head." He waited, "Well? Go ahead!"

The weight of the hand gun made Ginevra drop her hand. She began to cry.

"You stupid fool," Sullivan said. "You stupid, beautiful fool. You want to waste yourself on that Adam Cartwright. He wouldn't know how to appreciate you. I'll show you what a man is. He can't handle you but I can." Sullivan raised his arm and slapped Ginevra with the back of his hand. She cried out and dropped to her knees. Sullivan grabbed her up again by her arm and the gun dropped from her hand. She tried to twist away, her eyes wide with fear as she looked up at her stepfather.

"You are coming to Europe with me and you are going to be mine – mine as your mother was mine and your sister was, but you, you're the greatest prize of all and I'm going to enjoy it. Now go upstairs and pack or I swear I'll take my razor strop to you. Understand?"

Sullivan still held her arm and Ginevra nodded.

"Good," he said and released her. Ginevra dropped to the floor. "We may as well start our new relationship tonight. Now go." He turned his back and stared at the title of the books on the shelves – his own private library. He decided he would take one to show Ginevra that night – one with pictures. As he was perusing the titles, he felt a heavy thud on his back, as if someone had slammed him with a huge fist. Then came another thud followed by intense pain; and there was a sound - two identical sounds - both loud, and the rational part of his brain told him they were gunshots. He turned and grabbed the edge of the leather couch to steady himself as his legs felt weak. Ginevra was sitting on the floor, unsteadily holding the hand gun, both her index fingers on the trigger and the gun shook. Sullivan felt he couldn't breathe, and he took one more step toward Ginevra. "You bitch," he managed to say. "I'll teach you! I'll teach you!" And then a blow hit his chest like a giant's fist. His legs gave out and Sullivan dropped to the floor. The last thing he saw were the animal heads looking down on him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Tarbuck, Lew and Hannigan had a good start on their whiskey when they heard the gunshots.

"What the hell…?" Lew said.

"Gunshots, three of 'em and sounds like it's from the house," Tarbuck said rising from his chair.

"Sure was," Hannigan said. He pulled his gun from its holster, checking the chambers to ensure it was fully loaded. "I counted three as well."

"Me too," Lew said and retrieved his gun. Tarbuck followed and all three men headed for the house.

"You two stay out here." Lew and Tarbuck nodded. "I don't see his horse but Ben Cartwright might've circled around and come back to shoot Sullivan. Or Sullivan shot him."

Hannigan threw open the front door and crouched, scanning the area. He saw no one but he did hear Ginevra crying out, saying, "Oh…oh, God…oh, God!" Hannigan headed to the gun room and saw Ginevra sobbing as she sat on the floor while Jinjing held the hand gun, kneeling beside the sobbing girl, stroking her hair, murmuring soft words.

"You Chinee bitch!"

Jinjing looked up to see Hannigan pointing a gun at them. Her face showed fear and she shook her head, saying, "No, no! You listen! I not shoot Mister!" and she dropped the gun. But Hannigan just strode over and grabbed Jinjing up by her long braid, dragging her outside while Ginevra followed.

"She didn't shoot him, "Ginevra wailed. "I shot him! I shot my stepfather! Please stop!"

Hannigan did, but only to spit out, "You? You wouldn't kill your father. That's unnatural. This 'a here bitch did it. I saw her holdin' the gun! None of them can be trusted, sneaky and sly as they are." And he continued dragging Jinjing out of the house, her hands on his wrists to stop him from pulling her hair too painfully, but he jerked her more. Finally, Hannigan had her outside where Tarbuck and Lew waited.

"She shot Boss. Caught her red-handed with the gun in her hand and Sullivan lying bleedin' and dead on the floor. Lew, go get a rope. We're gonna have a hangin' !"

Lew ran to the barn after tucking his gun in his waistband.

"Help me hold this wildcat," Hannigan said to Tarbuck who with a drunken smile of delight, held on to Jinjing who struggled to get away.

Ginevra grabbed on to Hannigan's sleeve. "She didn't do it! Why won't you believe me! I did it! He threatened me, struck me! He gave me the gun himself, told me to shoot myself with it! Oh, please, let Jinjing go! She didn't do it!"

Hannigan just shoved Ginevra away as Lew came back with a rope.

"Don't bother with a noose. Just tie it 'round her neck and then we'll throw the rope over that branch there and lift her up." Lew did as he was told while Hannigan and Tarbuck held Jinjing as she spoke half in Chinese, half in English declaring her innocence and struggling to be free. But Hannigan just laughed. He'd never trusted the woman, always sneakin' about the house, keeping to the walls like vermin. She had shown who she really was, shooting Sullivan, and even if she hadn't – which he doubted, it would be one less Chinese in the world and that wasn't a bad thing as far as he was concerned.

Ginevra ran back into the house but paused before she went into the gunroom. Her stepfather was in there and she didn't want to see his body. She turned her head at the sounds of Jinjing's screams and the men's harsh voices. She squared her shoulders and went in. Her stepfather now lay on the Indian rug, now blood-soaked from the wounds in his back but in the front, all his shirt showed was a black-rimmed hole in the middle of his chest. He stared at the ceiling with blank eyes. Ginevra bent down, trying to avoid looking at the body, and picked up the handgun. Her mind churned. She had already fired three shots. This was probably what she had heard called a six-shooter. She had three bullets left, one for each man. Ginevra ran back outside and Hannigan was standing with his arms akimbo, a huge smile on his face. Tarbuck had just tossed the rope over the branch of the oak tree and he and Lew were just about to pull Jinjing up. She was wailing and holding on to the rope about her neck, trying desperately to free herself.

"Stop what you're doing or I'll shoot!" Ginevra held the gun up. It shook in her hands but she aimed at the two men ready to pull the rope. Silence fell and the three men stood still. Even Jinjing was stunned into silence. "Now, all three of you – go back to the bunkhouse because I'll shoot you! Don't think I won't!" She tried to sound determined, but her voice quavered and she looked terrified. The gun was heavier to hold and aim as the barrel kept dropping down. The gun seemed heavier than when she had been sitting on the floor. Her wrists ached. "Now do what I said!"

Tarbuck and Lew looked to Hannigan, not moving.

"You gonna shoot all of us, huh?"

"Yes, I'll shoot all of you! I swear it!"

Hannigan turned away and spoke to Tarbuck and Lew. "I guess she got us, boys." Ginevra sighed and as her arms sagged, Hannigan quickly stepped toward her and as his arm went heavily down on hers, Ginevra pulled the trigger and the bullet fired harmlessly into the dirt.

~ 0 ~

"Was that a bullet, Roy?"

Ben Cartwright and Roy Coffee had decided to return to the Silver T. Roy said he'd question Sullivan about the dead steer with the sliced-off brand; that seemed an admission of guilt.

"Well, it's about time you see that," Ben said.

"Now don't go getting cocky," Roy had said, "I just want to ask some questions. But I think I'm gonna have to get a writ from a judge to examine his stock. But we'll see."

And as the two men were heading back to the Silver T, they had heard the gunfire and kicked their horses forward. Both men gasped as they pulled up in the front yard of the Silver T and saw Jinjing swinging from a tree, both Tarbuck and Lew still holding the other end of the rope, Hannigan watching and Ginevra slumped in the dirt, her knees drawn up as she sobbed.

"Jesus Christ!" Ben said. "What…"

Roy shook his head; he had seen so many things in his career as a lawman, had seen many rustlers or horse thieves lynched, but this scene, this was one of the worst. Never before had Roy seen a woman hanged. Roy dismounted, pulled his gun, and Ben leapt from the saddle to kneel by Ginevra who fell into his arms, leaning against Ben's broad chest, clinging to him and weeping too much to speak.

Hannigan raised his hands, not in surrender but to indicate he wasn't armed and had no intention of pulling his gun. Lew and Tarbuck released the rope and Jinjing's body tumbled onto the ground.

"That heathen shot Sullivan," Hannigan said. "Three times. She shot the Boss about three times and killed 'im. We just saved the law from havin' to hang 'er. She deserved worse!"

"That's not for you to decide – for none of you. Now all three of you, put you guns on the ground; I'm takin' you three in."

"For what?" Hannigan asked in true surprise.

"For murder."

~ 0 ~

Ginevra held her head high during the inquest of Titus Sullivan's death, but her voice shook. She answered the prosecutor's questions, why she had shot her stepfather – not once, but three times.

"Seems a case of overkill," the prosecutor said smugly.

The courthouse was packed with townspeople and those from the surrounding area who were interested in the salacious story. The judge from Carson City constantly had to use his gavel, pounding it on the sounding block, to demand silence. He even threatened to clear the courthouse but Judge Wheeler knew that would be next to impossible. Roy Coffee would be hard-put to order the townspeople out without backlash.

Adam sat in the back row of the courthouse with his father. The room was hot and people had red faces from the heat and the place stank of sweaty, unclean people. The judge had to constantly remind people that this was a court and they weren't to spit tobacco juice on the floor. Judge Wheeler pointed to the signs on the wall that declared, "NO spitting, NO alcohol, NO cursing, NO food, NO children."

The hearing was lurid and people buzzed at every revelation which drew another slam of the gavel. Adam was distressed; he hadn't known about any of it, about Titus' lust for his stepdaughter. And he chastised himself for not seeing the subtle signs as Adam had always prided himself on his powers of observation. He should have noticed, he declared to his father that night, should have realized how things were.

"Don't blame yourself, Adam. If anyone's to blame – it's me."

"Why do you say that, Pa?"

"Livy Sullivan, came to see me one night while you were back east. She told me then that she was dying…kidney disease. She wanted you to marry Teresa who was with child, wanted her daughter out of the house. At the time I didn't see it, couldn't even imagine such a thing, but I believe now that Livy suspected Titus was the father of Teresa's child."

"What? I thought Teresa married…"

"It was all a lie. I helped send Teresa to Stockton to have her baby."

"What makes you think the father was Titus? What did she say?"

"She asked me to blow his head off. I should have."

"I guess hindsight is a sorry thing, Pa. Useless."

"Yeah. Just like I was to her."

"Pa, don't be so hard on yourself. I was right there on the Silver T and I…I was just too interested in winning, in having Ginevra. I should have noticed more things."

Ben smiled wanly. "I guess we both have regrets, don't we, Adam?"

Judge Wheeler declared Ginevra was justified in the shooting of Titus Sullivan. As for the three shots, the judge said he understood Ginevra's fear of imminent defilement and perhaps more physical abuse and believed this fear caused her to shoot so many times – hysteria was the reason. The crowd remained silent for a few heartbeats and then men rose to their feet, railing with raised arms, accusing the judge of allowing a murderess to go free. Ginevra Sullivan should pay for what she'd done, killing a man and then destroying his reputation through slanderous lies! She was a liar and only wanted her stepfather dead so she and Adam Cartwright could have the ranch and make an even larger Ponderosa! It made sense to them. Why couldn't the judge see it?

Even Adam was surprised that Ginevra wouldn't be held over for trial. It wasn't that he wasn't pleased at the ruling, but even loving her as he did, he understood that once Titus was shot in the back, the man was no longer a threat to Ginevra; she could have run to her room, run to Sheriff Coffee or to himself at the Ponderosa. Any of them would have protected her. But, Adam considered, Ginevra's shining beauty in the drab courtroom must have played a part in the judge's decision. Justice was never completely blind and in this one case, Adam was pleased.

That day in court after Ginevra was released, Ben and Adam, along with Roy Coffee, had to surround Ginevra and escort her out the back way while Judge Wheeler pounded the sounding block, not just to indicate closure but to attempt to maintain order.

Hannigan, Tarbuck and Lew Bordeau all stood trial together and the jury found them not guilty after a four-hour trial. In explaining their verdict to the puzzled judge, the foreman said that the men were drunk, "And ever'body knows that drink confuses a man. And then Hannigan there, he said that the Chinese woman was holdin' the gun that killed Titus. We don't believe his lyin' daughter's testimony. Titus was a good man, wouldn't have done any of those things she said. And we can't blame his ranch hands for wantin' Titus' murderer dead. Besides, Lew Bordeau and Tarbuck, they was just doin' as they were told."

Once the three men were released from jail, they left town and never returned, but not before they went to the house and took the strongbox. When the theft was discovered, Ginevra refused to press charges.

It was mid-July when Adam stood on the platform outside the stage depot, purchasing Ginevra's ticket on the first leg of her trip back to Philadelphia. She was still anathema to the people of the small town and she wanted to get away – had to get away. Men commented behind her back and the women shunned her. Her Aunt Pauline begged her in a letter to return and Ginevra felt it would be best if she did. Her Aunt Pauline had always loved her, taken care of her, Ginevra told Adam.

After her confession to shooting her uncle, Roy Coffee had been unsure what to do with Ginevra. He didn't want to lock her up. For one thing, Roy had told Ben, she was so young. She was also female and might have needs and requests he didn't want to deal with or know how to handle. Sure, he had been married but still… Ben suggested that Ginevra be put up in the hotel – under guard. Roy, relieved, said he should have thought of it and so it was done. An old-timer, Buck Harvey, was deputized to guard Ginevra's door. Although he spent most of the day nodding off in his chair in the hallway, Ginevra was legally guarded and there could be no complaints.

After the inquest, Ginevra had stayed with the Cartwrights. Ben had been concerned at first, worried that having Ginevra and Adam in such close quarters would cause trouble – trouble for him. But he was wrong as the relationship between Adam and Ginevra was now awkward. It seemed they avoided each other. Since Adam's arm was better, he volunteered for any duty that took him out of the house. And Ginevra spent most of her time sitting and gazing out the bedroom window.

"Thank you, Adam, for all you've done," Ginevra said as she stood, waiting to board the stage, the wooden steps already placed in front of the coach door.

"Ginevra, I'm sorry how things turned out. I only wish there was more I could have done."

"You did more than…it doesn't matter now, does it, Adam? As my mother used to tell us when we were small, what's done is done."

Adam smiled. "Yes, I suppose so."

"I do love you, Adam. I always will. Always. I'll never find another man like you, one who made me feel as if the world was bright and wonderful. But now I know the real world isn't like that."

"Ginevra…" Adam was at a loss as to what to say. He had loved Ginevra – that he knew. Wanted to marry her and was willing to work for her. So why, he asked himself, was he willing to let her go?

"Adam, you don't have to say anything. So much has changed – I've changed. I'm not who I was, not who you loved. But you, oh, my darling, you are eternally good and kind and the most wonderful man I'll ever know!"

"You think too much of me, Ginevra." Adam held her by the upper arms. "if you only knew…"

"Ma'am," the stage whip said, leaning over to look at the young woman. "We gotta leave now to stay on schedule. Mind boarding?"

"She will," Adam said. He pulled Ginevra close and kissed her and her mouth was still soft and yielding and tasted pure and sweet. "Come back, Ginevra. Come back to me. We can get to know each other again, discover new things about each other, how we've changed. Perhaps we'll find we're even better people."

"I have to go," Ginevra said, her voice choked with unshed tears. She stepped away from Adam but he moved closer to assist her in getting on the stage, treasuring the last touch of her gloved hand and how it felt so small, in his. Then he closed the coach door and Ginevra, taking her seat, looked out the window at Adam. The depot master took away the steps and Adam moved closer to the window.

"Goodbye, Ginevra."

She said nothing, couldn't speak, just nodded, her hand covering her mouth. And as the stage pulled away, Ginevra leaned out the window to see Adam for as long as she could. He raised his hand and held it up until the stage rounded the far corner and disappeared from sight.

Adam slightly jumped as a hand came down on his shoulder. "Oh, Pa – it's you. Well, she's gone."

"Strange how things turn out, isn't it?"

"Yeah, sure is. A man has his life planned and then it's blown to shards. Why don't things ever turn out as we expect?"

"Then we'd think we had power over fate, which we don't. How about a drink, son?"

"Sounds good to me." Father and son started toward the saloon. "You know we have first option to buy the Silver T and that includes the Rackard property – or should I say the Dayton property – that Titus bought."

"Oh, I don't know," Ben said. "I heard that that gambler, name's Frank Dayton, I think, decided he wants to try his hand at ranching, wants to buy back the land he sold – for less, of course. Applied for a brand. The Double R will now be the Running D."

Ben noticed that Adam was only half-listening. But it was to be expected. After all, Adam had just had his heart broken, just said goodbye to a woman he loved. But Ben was certain that since Adam's heart was young, it would soon heal. But as life usually goes, it would only be broken again and there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it from happening.

~ Finis ~


End file.
